An expedition gone wrong
by Yaoi-Mayer
Summary: Denmark gets an awesome idea for a cool vacation and gets Prussia into it as well. It turns out, however, to be a completely different kind of vacation they end up with. Rated M for death and (hopefully) good details of body parts in a not so good condition.
1. Chapter 1

**Here, have some angsty stuff between two awesome friends, why don't you?**

**I do not own Hetalia or its characters. This is entirely for the sake of the fandom and for my entertainment.**  
**And another big thanks to 'DancingOnRainbow' for beta-reading! :D**

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"Why the hell isn't he responding?" Prussia grumbled when he sat the walkie-talkie back on the heavy wooden table. He crossed his arms over his chest and sent the Swede a sour look. If anyone was to know about anything related to Denmark, it had to be Sweden. They were archenemies and detested each other. Yet it was a well-known fact that they, at some minor point, cared for each other. At least enough to not want the other dead unless it was by their hands.

Sweden looked at him over his glasses, the blue eyes hard and indifferent. The big and gloved hands held a Swedish newspaper and he didn't even seem worried.

"Dun'o. Cou'd b' he's fall'n int' an ice chasm," he answered without any kind of emotion.

"Swe!" Finland gasped and looked up from the book he was reading. Unlike the Swede, he looked concerned. "That's not a nice thing to say!" Sweden turned to look at him and the Finn seemed to shrink under the hard glare. "I-I mean, I know you hate Denmark and such b-but it's still not nice to say such things."

"Why not? I cou'd be right, y'know". He turned a page in the newspaper with frustrating ease for the Prussian who stood from his chair and began walking around in circles, occasionally going to the windows to look outside.

How he ended up caught with four Nordics in a deserted cottage in the middle of fucking nowhere?

Thanks to Denmark. That stupid Dane had convinced him to join him on a vacation of some sort in the mountains. 'It will be awesome!' the Dane had exclaimed before explaining what exactly they would be doing. Prussia had lifted an eyebrow in disbelief when Denmark was done talking.

'Seriously,' he had said and sighed deeply, taking a long swig of his beer, 'just walk around in the mountains and take pictures of stuff? Sounds extremely lame.' It hadn't been able to dampen Denmark's excitement, though. He had instead tried a different angle to convince Prussia to join him.

'We'll be skiing, man! Skiing is awesome! And the parties at night - there are always plenty of chicks we can hook up with! Come on, man, you have to do this, pleeeease!'

A few hours later, the discussion was over and Denmark was the victor. Prussia had finally agreed to go with him after the winning argument 'I can get us free beer.' which had gotten Prussia's attention.

About two months later, Denmark had gotten everything together and had maps over the mountains they would visit, he had gotten the correct currency - they would go to Norway - and he had packed the stuff he believed they would need. Prussia had demanded to see it and make sure the Dane had remembered everything. He was surprised to see he couldn't find a single thing missing.

Denmark rolled his eyes. 'You know, I know what you need when you want to stroll around in the mountains, I've done it plenty of times,' whereupon he had handed Prussia a wallet and a small bag to put his stuff in.

"Fin is right, still not nice," he growled and walked away from the window and back to the table. Gloved fingers grabbed the walkie-talkie and pressed on the button to speak. "Den? The hell are you doing, man? If you call me in a minute and say you've fallen into an ice chasm or some shit, I'm not coming to save your ass." He let go of the button, waited.

It, of course, wasn't true. If Denmark was in trouble like that, Prussia wouldn't hesitate to try and help him. They were best bros and part of the 'Awesome Trio' along with America. Of course Prussia would help Denmark if he ended up doing something stupid.

Several minutes passed and nothing happened. The device didn't begin talking to him and there was no rattling sound that might give away where Denmark was or that he even pressed the button.

By the couches, Norway checked his wristwatch. It had been four hours since the idiot left. He had said he would be back in three. And as Norway knew exactly how dangerous his nature could be, he couldn't cast off a feeling that Denmark maybe was in trouble. Not that he planned on helping. The idiot had probably brought it upon himself and should therefore be able to solve it himself.

"Have you tried calling his cell phone?" Finland asked and sent a nervous look out the window. Snow was falling, fine and slowly. His brows were furrowed lightly and his fingers werefumbling with the binding of the book he was holding. It was clear he was also beginning to be anxious about the Dane's absence.

"Twice. He said it was unlikely they would be able to get signal out here," Prussia answered and pulled out his cell phone again, found the Dane's number and took the device to his ear after having started the call.

Some heart beats and many rings later, a female voice announced that the number attempted to be called was out of reach or turned off.

"Shit." The phone was sent through the room along with an annoyed growl. Norway and Iceland dodged it with such indifference that it was clear this happened often when they were with Denmark.

It annoyed the shit out of Prussia that Sweden continued to turn the pages in the newspaper. He just sat there, staring at the words and pictures, looking like it didn't matter at all to him that Denmark might be in trouble.

Finally, it became too much for the Prussian and he forced the paper out of the Swede's hands with such a power he ripped it in two.

"What the hell, don't you even care? He's your family, he's been saving your ass quite a few times!"

"'N' kickin' it ev'n more," Sweden simply answered and slowly stood from his chair. He was completely calm but the hard glare was enough to get even Prussia to back down. He threw the ruined newspaper to the floor and paced back and forth on the floor again, sending a look at the walkie-talkie every time he passed by it.

Sweden went into the kitchen and they could hear him rummage through cupboards and push things around before a loud clattering sound was heard.

"Swe?" the Finn said anxiously, raising his voice just a bit so he could be heard in the kitchen.

"'s nothin', got it under contr'l," Sweden mumbled before he returned. In his arms were some crumbled and dusty papers, a small black box with childish drawings on it, and a plate with cookies.

He handed Prussia the papers and went to the couch where Norway, Finland and Iceland sat. "Look at 'em. Might be usef'l," the Swede said as he seated himself between the Norwegian and the Finn, immediately causing the smaller to try and crawl away just a bit.

Prussia looked at the papers before spreading them onto the table where he had placed the communication device. They were very old and filled with yellow blots. Black lines and circles were drawn all over them and small words were scribbled in a tight handwriting by every circle. Squinting a bit, Prussia recognized the language as either Swedish or Danish, meaning he was unable to read it.

It couldn't be missed, though, that these were maps. They were very detailed maps of the mountain they were in. At first, this got Prussia's heart to beat a tad faster. Awesome, this was perfect! Then the muscle seemed to stop and fall into his stomach.

If the maps were here... then what about Denmark?

"Sweden," the Prussian said and got a "Hm?" in return. "If we have these maps here, then has De-"

"Den has newer maps. Thes' ar' many, many years ol' 'n' not good enough to guide ya 'round. See th' backside."

Prussia did as told and turned the maps around, finding translations of the words he couldn't understand. Things like 'Watch out - risk of avalanches' and 'Nearly fell into ice chasm' and 'Stunning view!'. He memorized the words and turned the crisp paper around once more, finding the places where the sayings fit.

Having stared at the map for a few minutes, he went to his bag and rummaged through it to find the small book he had brought with him on Denmark's command. 'It's important to write down your trail in case something happens,' the Dane had said before handing the book to Prussia.

Prussia couldn't remember having been this happy for Denmark's idiotic and slightly overprotective mind. He bounded back to the chair and flipped through the papers until he reached the correct page, studied the route before finding it on the map.

The Prussian didn't know if he should be calm again or if he should worry even more. Their trail went past the 'Watch out - risk for avalanches' but too close to 'Nearly fell into ice chasm' for comfort. Few kilometres east of that, they had made a stop by a small valley before turning a little north-west.

He found that Denmark could be pretty much anywhere. They had been travelling far in the mountains today. In frustration, he grabbed the walkie-talkie again to shout into it.

"Denmark, if you don't answer in five minutes, I swear, I'm going to make Germany take your country again!"

"Is he really worth the trouble?" Norway asked in a flat tone after half a minute where nothing had sounded from the device. Prussia looked over at him to make an evil comeback but was too shocked by what he saw.

Sweden, Norway, Iceland and Finland were playing some kind of card game. Finland and Sweden sat together at one side of the table, Norway and Iceland on the other. The Finn looked terrified by Sweden's cold and hard expression while Norway didn't seem to even notice it, much like Iceland.

"What the hell are you doing?" he nearly shouted. How could they- what?! Didn't they even care about Denmark who could be hurt out there somewhere, injured and unable to call for help?

"Playing Uno. Want to join?" Finland answered, looking nearly begging for the Prussian to sit between him and Sweden.

"Nein! Denmark is out there and could be seriously hurt and you're playing cards and eating cookies?! Aren't you worried about him?"

"Prussia," Norway said and put down a card that got Finland to whine and pull two cards from the stack, "you need to learn some things about Den. He's an annoying asshole, first of all. After that, he knows how to take care of himself, even if he's hurt. Also, he's too proud to ask for help, even on the brink of death. He would never ask you for help. And he's an asshole."

"Oh, but I suppose he would ask you, being in love with you and all that shit," Prussia snarled and put down the device a bit too hard. Norway's face was blank and unreadable as always when he answered.

"Definitely not. Imagine the humiliation he would feel by asking a man he saw as his partner and who, according to him, is much weaker. He wouldn't ask me, either. Just as little as he would ask Swe or Icey. Best guess would be Fin and Swe would never allow it." Sweden nodded to that and pulled Finland a bit closer, causing the Finn to nearly cry in fear.

"Den's a strong guy. He can surviv' a bit of ev'rythin'," he said and put down his cards before leaning back to watch the others continue playing. His arm was around Finland's waist and he occasionally whispered things to him to help.

"Not cool, Swe," Norway said and sent him a warning look, taking a card from the stack. Sweden simply shrugged.

Prussia was stunned to see the complete indifference about Denmark. Finland was the only who seemed to care and he would sometimes turn his head to look out the windows, an expression of worry on his face. He might not like Denmark, either, but it still wouldn't be good to have him gone for too long.

"Fine," he then said and went to the entrance after having put the maps, book and walkie-talkie into the small bag. "If you don't want to find him, then I will. Have fun with your idiotic game and idiotic cookies."

"Woah, wait a minute!" Finland instantly said and jumped out of the couch after having put down his cards as the second winner. Sweden looked after him before getting up as well. Norway and Iceland remained sitting though their movements got faster in order to finish the game.

"You can't go out there alone!"

"Oh yeah? Watch me," Prussia growled and got on his overtrousers before he fiddled with the boots. Finland watched him for a few seconds, clearly surprised by this behaviour before he got a hard shine in his eyes and moved over to him, beginning to find his own clothes. Sweden was instantly by him which made it hard to move around in the relatively small entrance.

"Ya stay her'," he said and got a firm grip of the Finn's upper arm. Finland looked terrified for a moment, then gently tried to push the hand away.

"Ei. Prussia is right, for once. Denmark's absence is becoming suspicious. He should have been back an hour and a half ago and he doesn't answer his walkie-talkie. We have to find him." He didn't even look at Sweden when he got his jacket and his gloves, put them in the pocket of aforementioned jacket and got on his overtrousers and ski boots.

Norway and Iceland appeared in the door frame and looked at them.

"You serious, Fin? You hate him, too," the Norwegian commented flatly but not even he could deny the worry that was lined around his eyes.

"So what? Even so, it's not right to wish someone dead."

"We're not _wishing_him dead-"

"Speak for yaself."

"Shut up, Swe, this is serious. But Fin, what help would it be if we all disappeared?"

"Nobody's _asking_you to go," the Finn snapped and put on his goggles before pulling the tight gloves over his hands. He looked absolutely serious. "Stay here if you like. I don't plan on rushing into death anytime soon so I'll return."

There was complete silence in the entrance while the Nordics seemed to eye each other and Prussia pushed himself into the corner, away from them. He had always seen Finland as that one little guy everyone could push around. His appearance made him look like a cry baby, a weakling and he surely didn't seem like a guy who would stand up against someone like Norway or Sweden. Even so, this was what he was doing now.

His eyes were hard but face lined with anxiety when he watched the others, waiting for them to either shrug and go back to their game or to get their clothes and follow. He bent down to tighten his boot a bit and to get his trousers to cover them better so snow was less likely to get under them.

Finally, after a long and very tense minute, Norway gave in. "Brother, get our stuff."

"Stop calling me that." But Iceland agreed and disappeared into the living room to grab the things needed, including Prussia's big bag. He threw it to the albino who grabbed it just before Finland straightened.

He grabbed the bag thrown at him as well before opening the door to go outside. Prussia followed, letting Sweden, Norway and Iceland to argue alone in their weird languages.

There was a small bench just outside and he found Finland sitting on it, expertly clicking his boots into his skis. Prussia sat beside him, feeling his legs begin to tremble lightly. He was actually nervous about his stupid, idiotic, thick-headed friend. For once, he was nervous about something that didn't involve running out of beer or videogames he couldn't beat.

"Not going to use your skis?" Finland asked when his were on and he grabbed his ski poles, watching the albino stare into his bags to make sure he had everything.

"No way. I nearly broke my neck yesterday."

"Are you kidding? You spent the entire day on the green track!"

"My speciality is warfare and beer-drinking, not skiing," the Prussian snarled and noticed how Finland smiled at him though he still looked too serious.

"You can fight in a war and ski at the same time," he pointed out and turned his head to look at Sweden, Norway and Iceland as they exited the house, clad in thick clothes with the colours of their flags.

"If you're Finnish, yeah," Norway said and rolled his eyes before clicking on his skis as well, followed by the other two. "Do you still compete with Russia?"

"Occasionally," Finland answered with a small shrug, pretending not to notice the way Sweden stared at him. "Alright, we're ready. All have walkie-talkies and cell phones?"

They nodded.

"And we all have each other's numbers?"

They nodded.

"Sweet. No, not you, Swe. You know, good, right? Anyway, it seems Prussia doesn't know how to ski so he will need to go together with one of us."

They all looked at the Prussian who rolled his eyes and tried to hide his embarrassment.

"You can't be serious. We spent over five hours skiing yesterday."

"Hey hey! We all have things we're better at than others," Prussia snapped at the Icelander and got up from the bench. "I could out-drink any of you," Finland raised an eyebrow, "okay, maybe not you, but everyone else here, anytime. And you will never be as good to fight as me. Besides, you live with snow like this, you can ski whenever the hell you like. I can't."

"But Austria has plenty of tracks you could practice on," Norway pointed out, looking absolutely indifferent.

"Like that prissy aristocrat would allow me to do that."

"Anyway," Finland interrupted before the discussion could go out of hand, "we need to find one Prussia can go with."

"Not me," Norway and Iceland said at the exact same time.

"You're too kind," the Prussian snarled and looked at the Finn and the Swede.

"So, me or Swe?"

"I'm scared of skiing with you. I bet you go too fast and do insane stunts just to show off."

"Do not! But are you cool with that, Swe?"

The Swede looked incredibly cold and hard when his eyes found Prussia and seemed to measure him. He didn't answer. Feeling a slightly bit courageous, Prussia beckoned the Swede over with a finger and jumped onto the bench. At first, Sweden looked reluctant but still went over to the Prussian.

"I'll pair you up with Fin if you don't do anything crazy." Sweden seemed more willing to let Prussia go with him but still not entirely convinced.

"I'll make sure no one interrupts and that you can have him for as long as you want." They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, cold and hard royal-blue meeting determined and harsh crimson. Then the Swede nodded and allowed Prussia to go with him, standing right behind him and on his skis, arms tightly swung around the giant body.

Finland didn't look relaxed when he let his eyes graze over the two but seemingly decided it wasn't important when he began instructing where they would go.

Then they were off, all of them with a bag over their shoulders, except for Sweden who instead had a terrified Prussian clinging to him.

Luckily, they went slow as they needed to search wherever they went. At one point, though, Sweden apparently decided to test Prussia and how tight he could cling to him so he broke the trail and skied in between some trees where the ground wasn't smooth. Needless to say, Prussia was not amused and Sweden learned that even if the albino no longer represented a strong kingdom, he was still a very strong person. When they once more were with the others, Sweden got a serious scolding from them while Prussia just clung to him, shivering and trembling all over.

"Deal is over," he whispered to the Swede who just turned to send him a 'You sure?'-look, clearly signalizing that if he meant that, then Sweden wouldn't hold back.

"On second thought, maybe not."

They continued without more scolding or insane stunts for about two hours before they made a stop to talk tactics once more. Prussia tried to reach Denmark on the walkie-talkie, once more without luck. Trying the cell phone gave them the same result. Finland looked seriously worried by now and he chewed on his bottom lip when he looked over their map and Prussia's book with details about his and Denmark's trail.

"And you are sure you went north-west and not just north or west?"

"Pretty damn much. I got Denny to say it three times."

"Hmm." The Finn frowned and drew lines with his finger on the map, looking in the book. "His clothes are pretty flashy, aren't they?"

"So flashy France would envy him."

"That makes it even worse. Means that we're either not even close or he really has fallen into an ice chasm."

They all looked over at Sweden who didn't move a muscle or raise an eyebrow.

"'s possible, y'know," he simply mumbled and took a look at the map himself.

After a while of arguing back and forth where they didn't come closer to a solution, Prussia stood up and grabbed his bag, swinging it over his shoulders.

"We're not getting anything done by arguing. Let's just go, okay? I'm seriously worried about him and I don't like standing still here. I feel watched."

"Probably just wolves," Finland said nonchalantly like being watched by wolves was the most normal and safe thing in the world. Prussia stepped a bit closer to them. "Fine, we'll continue."

And so they did. They continued for some hours, Prussia still behind Sweden and clinging onto him for dear life as they went through forests and over uneven ground. Finland was humming and occasionally actually singing as he led the others, sometimes making a - to Prussia - insane jump whenever it was possible. Norway and Iceland were completely silent and so was Sweden. They simply followed the Finn without questions but were sane enough to avoid the jumps.

The longer they continued, the darker it got, even if the darkness only slowly settled around them. It was not even close to twilight when a thin, very thin sheet of fog seemed to dawn upon them.

At one point, Prussia saw something move between the trees. He instantly felt his heart speed up and asked the others to slow down, asked them if they could also see it. They could but said it was probably just a deer. Prussia jumped off of Sweden's skis, though, and nearly fell face-first into the snow when it showed to be much deeper than he had expected. Finland couldn't keep from chuckling. The albino quickly got up again and was more careful when he moved over the deep snow to get closer to whatever it was they had seen.

"Don't go that far!" Finland shouted anxiously when Prussia for a moment disappeared out of their range of sight.

"It's cool, I've got this!" Prussia answered and looked over his shoulder. He could easily see them. He turned back around, squinting a bit to try and find the mysterious thing. Moving forward and a bit to the left, he found a shadow move and his heart raced again.

"Den?" he shouted and jumped a bit forward, feet sliding over a hidden log and made him fall as long as he was. "Den, is that you?" The Prussian got no answer, not even when he got up from the deep snow that was now everywhere on him. Desperate to find his friend, he looked over the surrounding area.

Or, he tried to.

It couldn't be more than five minutes he had been away from the others but it was enough for the fog to settle completely. Well, wasn't this just his lucky day.

"Fucking shit," he grumbled and found the walkie-talkie in the small bag, pushing the button to call after having changed the channel. "You just stand completely still, okay? I will find back to you now."

"Sure thing," the voice of Finland said and the device went quiet as Prussia put it back, then turned around to go back from where he came. He occasionally tried to yell for the others but the fog seemed to completely absorb his voice.

When he checked his cell phone, he had been wandering forjust about ten minutes. Way longer than it should have taken to find the others.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He found the cell phone and called the other Nordics again. "Where the hell are you?" Finland instantly asked him and sounded really nervous. "You should be here now!"

"Well, sorry for not knowing of your shitty nature when it's foggy!"

"I can hear you, you know," Norway said and though his voice was as flat as ever, it had a slightly annoyed tone.

"I'm peeing my pants in fear. Seriously. Anyway, aren't you where we parted?"

"Yes, yes, we are! Where are you?"

"By some... tree. And a rock." _You have got to be kidding me, I can't be lost_, the Prussian thought and continued to walk forward, trying to find his way back to the path they had been following. But he could barely see five meters in front of him which made it impossible to determine whether or not he was even close.

"I have never seen trees and rocks in a forest. Tell me more."

"Norway, shut up or I might make Den force you to when I find him and we find our way out of this shitty forest."

"May I remind you-"

"No, you can't, Nor, give me that thing!" A smaller war seemed to be fought between the others. When his cell phone once more talked to him, it was with Finland's voice. "Prussia, wherever you are, do not move until the fog is gone and it's become day again! We'll camp where we are and we suggest you do the same. We'll find each other when we can see more than a hand in front of us."

"Great. Fucking awesome. What do I do if encounter a bear or something?"

"Play dead."

"Iceland, fuck off. I'm pretty serious right now, believe it or not."

"Bears are hibernating now, you idiot. It's winter. It's more likely you're attacked by a wolf, even if that is still extremely unlikely," the Norwegian said, voice as flat as pancake.

"Cool, I've always liked wolves better than bears," Prussia snarled and could nearly _hear_how Norway rolled his eyes.

"Any more info? You know, just in case it's hungry and such and want a piece of awesome Prussian ass."

"No, Nor, let go of me!" Fighting was again heard from the other end until Norway seemed to finally shut up and let Finland have the phone to himself.

"If it charges you, don't run. Whatever you do, do _not_ run. It _will_chase you."

Prussia rolled his eyes a bit as he continued to move, wondering if it would help to pull out his flashlight.

"Let's say it then attacks you," the Finn continued.

"Hooray."

"Shut it. If it does, you must either attack back or make yourself seem innocent and passive. Only withdraw if you can see any young animals with it, and then do so with slow movements. You could also go into foetal position. However, if there are no young animals with it, you have to attack. Look big, maintain eye contact, make noise, and hit it with anything in your reach. You do have some kind of weapon, right?"

"'Course I do."

"Great. That should keep you alive," Finland informed and seemed to discuss with Sweden for a moment before the phone was passed on.

"Remember, tho'gh, wolves ar' pack animals. If there's one, there's probably mor'."

Prussia felt his heart sink.

"Perfect. Just perfect."

"Now ya're informed."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, I guess."

"Mh." The phone was handed back to Finland and it sounded like Norway started fighting again. "We'll cut it here, Prussia. Take care, please." He sounded genuinely worried.

"Sure thing. You, too. And watch out for _Ber_wald," Prussia said and stressed the 'Ber' to make it sound like 'bear'. Finland giggled lightly and hung up, leaving Prussia alone with the eerie and dark silence.

Camp. Should he really do that? It was true he probably wouldn't get more out of searching in this weather but he couldn't go to sleep when he didn't know where or how Denmark was. He pulled out the walkie-talkie again and talked into it after having pushed the button and tuned back to the correct channel.

"Matthias, this is a serious plea. If you're pulling some kind of prank, I will cut our friendship once I find you. If you can hear me but are unable to answer for some reason, please hang in there. We're all looking for you. Sweden, Finland, Norway and Iceland, all of us." He let go of the button to give the Dane time to answer. The silence seemed to roar at him. Prussia gripped the device tighter.

"We're not giving up. Matthias, hang in there, pal. If you die somewhere in Norwegian nature, I will never forgive you, alright? Over and out." He let the walkie-talkie slide back into the small bag and moved forward again, ignoring the advice about camping for the night. He needed to continue searching, he couldn't sleep with the knowledge that Denmark might be seriously hurt somewhere and unable to call for help.

Because Prussia knew that even Denmark would give in sooner or later and call for help, no matter how humiliating or embarrassing it might be. Denmark didn't have the same unbendable pride as Prussia and his brother who would _never, ever_be as weak as to reach out a hand for support.

Just then, his foot disappeared under him. His stomach did an agile back-flip and he howled loudly in shock when he lost footing and fell. Cold air passed by him so fast it nearly froze his face and he couldn't hear himself scream.

It seemed like an entire minute before he finally hit the massive ground with a loud thud, his body tensing and paralyzing in intense pain seemingly starting in his spine. White flashed before his eyes even as they were closed and he could only gasp for air, the agony too much for him to breathe deeply.

How long he lay there he had no idea. All he knew was that the pain slowly, very slowly dwindled.

As he dared open his eyes again, snow fell into them, just to mock him further. He tryingly lifted his arms and though it hurt like hell, he managed to rub the snow out of his eyes. Free of more annoying substances that might try to blind him, he stared up. Great. He had fallen directly down into an ice chasm. Fucking great.

His entire body hurt and his head was spinning when he got up. The bag over his shoulders hadn't cushioned the fall. Idiotic thing.

It was completely dark down here. What a surprise. Prussia fumbled with his bag for a moment before finding the opening. Then he used another good minute to fumble around in it to find the flashlight. When he finally held it in his hands, he closed the bag and swung it over his shoulder again.

He turned the flashlight on and was momentarily blinded by the sudden and very sharp light. Taking about half a minute to get used to the light, he grabbed his walkie-talkie and talked to it again. Wasn't it stupid, really? If Denmark hadn't answered his former calls, why should this one be different? But he tried, still.

"Matthias, believe it or not, I've just-"

A chatter got him to shut up instantly. And as he did, so did the chatter. He looked around, the flashlight's light falling over nothing but glistening ice and a long, narrow passage.

"Matthias?" The chatter was back but it died out when Prussia's voice did.

He started shivering. While he at one point knew what he could expect now, he wasn't sure if he wanted that.

Prussia talked into the device again and this time began to follow the chattering sound, flashlight held high and ready to swing if it should become necessary.

He followed the passage for a long time where the chattering only got louder and clearer. His steps were taken faster and his breathing quickened, his heart pulsating harder as snow and ice creaked under him.

Finally, he reached a giant cave by the end of the passage. He could only see ice wherever the light fell but his eyes quickly landed on another dim light not too far from him. He had been talking into the walkie-talkie the entire time and could now hear his own words be flung back at him, the echo so clear in here.

And he saw a shadow move by the light and let his own flashlight point at it, fearing the worst but seeing the... well, something also pretty bad but still better than a hungry Yeti.

Denmark was leaning against the wall and even with the distance and darkness between them, Prussia could see the relief that washed over his face by seeing a familiar person.

"Took you long enough," the Dane shouted but his voice was weak and shaking. Prussia ran over to him, uncaring about possible dangers in form of slippery or thin ice that could tackle him at any given moment.

"Maybe if you would use your fucking walkie-talkie we would have found you sooner," the Prussian grumbled when he was close enough to touch his friend. He grabbed the thick coat and put the flashlight down before embracing him tightly. Denmark whined loudly, an ear-piercing sound Prussia had never heard from him before.

He didn't need to ask what the reason was, though. Already now, when he was still holding the man, he could feel bones poke against his fingers where they shouldn't.

Prussia looked around, using the Dane's flashlight to find the bag. It was about two metres away from them.

"Scheiße," he cursed and went to get it before crawling back to Denmark. He could only see little in the dim light but it couldn't be clearer that Denmark was in some serious pain. His face was contorted but he tried to hide it, tried to call back the usual grin, though only with little success.

"I had just found a comfortable position," the Dane complained, pain lining every single feature in his face when he tried to find it again.

* * *

**Translations:  
**_Ei = No_ (Finnish)  
_Nein = No_ (German)  
_Scheiße = Shit _(German)

Green track is for kids and people who barely knows the different ends of ski. Here you learn to at least stand straight on your skis.


	2. Chapter 2

**Aah, second instalment in this thing that is supposed to be sad. It will be there soon. Sooooon. I'm sorry, this chapter is probably shit, I've had so many problems writing it, ugh.  
I don't think anyone thinks I own Hetalia or the characters but if you do; I don't. They belong to our God and saviour, ****Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done entirely for the sake and pain of the fandom.  
And a big thanks to 'DancingOnRainbow' for beta-reading! :D**

* * *

"Well, it's not like you're the only one to experience that kind of thing," the Prussian sighed and opened Denmark's bag, finding the smaller one inside. "We've both been to a lot of wars, remember?"

"Yeah, we have. Also against each other," Denmark said with a small smile on his lips. The battle of Schleswig-Holstein hadn't been pretty. It had been long and Denmark had lost a pretty big part of his country to Prussia and Germany. And Sweden, that little bitch, had promised to send him help. And had the little bitch kept his promise?

Of course not.

He had left Denmark to survive on his own, weakened and miserable, facing defeat by his now dear friend.

"You should really stop lingering so much in the past," Prussia mumbled and unlocked the locks on the smaller bag, folding back a flap so the content became visible. A walkie-talkie, a small book, some paper and a pencil.

The albino's fingers slowly slipped around the communication device and pulled it out of the bag. He looked up at the Dane just in time to see the smile vanish and give room for an expression Prussia hadn't believed he would see on him. It was one of sadness mixed with regret as much as annoyance.

"Denny," Prussia almost whispered, his voice fully audible in the big and empty cave, "this still works, doesn't it?"

Of course it did. This was the thing that had made the sounds Prussia had followed to find Denmark in the first place.

"You bet it does. And I don't think I've ever had such a scolding from you before."

"... Sorry, pal. I was just frustrated you didn't answer."

"Yeah, I could hear that. But seriously, you would never let me fall into the hands of your brother, would you? He's kinda freaky. Although he's a nice drinking-buddy," the Dane added and watched the albino fumble around with the bags for a minute or two before finally settling down beside him.

"No way I would. But I figured I had to threaten you just a little if you were..."

"Pulling a prank?"

Prussia grew silent and bit his lips. How could he have thought Denmark would pull off that kind of prank? It was absurd! Denmark might be good at jokes and good at tricking people but he would never do it in this kind of situation. It was simply too serious, even for a prankster as him. Even he had some kind of dignity. Although you had to look for it for a long time.

The crimson eyes met with the royal-blue for a long moment.

"What, you want me to apologize again? Once is already more than enough," the Prussian mumbled and took his gaze from the other, trying to ignore the low laughter. It was a nice sound but it wasn't as loud or genuine as it had been just yesterday. Nor was it as free. "It's your fault for getting lost in the first place."

"Well, sorry for being sick of Sweden's accompany." Denmark rolled his eyes and let the corners of his lips cringe a bit upwards again, the smile coming back just a bit.

Prussia sighed deeply and found his cell phone from the chest pocket on his jacket. He glanced at the screen for a moment, waiting for the signal strength to either become better or worse. At the moment, it was pretty good and when it didn't change, Prussia quickly found one of the other Nordics' number.

Three rings later, a drowsy and very annoyed voice growled at him.

"Ja?"

"Yo, Norway. I've found your lover." The man in the other end instantly moved around, sleeping bags and thick clothes moving against each other. He had probably moved to sit up.

There was a long silence in which Norway probably contemplated whether to react with anger of being called Denmark's 'lover', or relief of Denmark being found.

In the end, Norway reacted with neither.

"Good. Tell him it's over once I see his idiotic face again."

"You tell him," Prussia grinned and put the phone to the Dane's ear.

It was in times such as these that Prussia was both incredibly relieved and incredibly annoyed that he hadn't bothered to learn his friend's tongue, therefore being unable to understand Norwegian. Because at one point, he wanted to know what Norway was yelling, but at another, it was so harsh even Denmark visibly shrunk under it. And Denmark was usually not the person to let a scolding affect him.

It might be that Norwegian was a soft language and sounded nearly like song but Prussia soon found that it could be very, very hard as well. There were some things he could recognize, like 'Jævla drittsekk!' and 'Faen ta deg!' which were said with such strength that Prussia was surprised Norway didn't lose his voice.

He was nearly happy when he could hear Sweden, Iceland and Finland interrupt. It was easy to hear that it was quite a fight to get Norway to let go of the phone but it was equally clear that it was thanks to Iceland that it was possible. Sweden was probably just staring, face and eyes indifferent. Maybe a raised eyebrow. But it wasn't Sweden's loud and deep voice you could hear through the phone.

"Denmark?" Finland almost yelled into the device but unlike Norway, it was filled with worry and relief at the same time.

"That's me," Denmark sighed, "or, what's left of me after such a scolding."

"You deserve it, rasshøl!" the Prussian and the Dane could hear Norway shout from somewhere not too far but not too close, either, to Finland.

"Sorry to say, Denny, but he is right. Why the hell would you go out alone?"

"None of you morons would go and shoot pictures with me."

"You can't be serious. You risked your life for some pictures?" Finland asked and his voice was heavily marked with disbelief. Prussia made a silent sigh and shifted a bit on his legs.

"Swe annoyed the shit out of me."

"That's not a proper excuse. You annoy us all the time but you don't see us leaving you all the t-"

Denmark nearly flinched. Nothing but silence filled the cave for a long minute. Prussia tensed while the Dane took a deep breath, his chest rising high before falling equally much. They could hear Finland clear his throat, then cough quietly, like he was afraid of saying anything. Prussia knew the Finn had said something he shouldn't have. It wasn't something he knew a lot about as Denmark had never been willing to tellhim about it but he did know it was very painful for his friend.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

"Just forget it," Denmark mumbled and looked to the side, away from the cell phone. His eyes had gotten a slightly hard shine but it soon fell away when he began talking again. "Forget it."

And suddenly, it seemed that the anger and fury over Denmark's decision had disappeared. As if by magic, the other Nordics were speaking softer when they were passed the phone. Prussia had made a little table of some sort by stacking their bags on which he put the phone after putting it on speaker. Then he sat down by the Dane and began to feel his body for further damages. His hands grabbed Denmark's arms, feeling them from the upper part and down to the fingers.

Sweden was given the device just as Prussia reached the legs and he noticed how the Dane tensed his body when Sweden's voice echoed throughout the cave.

"Just as I thought I couldn't hate your voice anymore than I already did," he sighed but he was smiling lightly, looking out in front of him. "Remind me to never give any of you a megaphone. You sound horrible."

"Like ya're one t' talk," the Swede muttered, "ya in an ice chasm?"

"Aye, I am," Denmark grumbled, then howled loudly when Prussia began to grope his shin. "Fuck, Gil, I'm ticklish as hell right there, stop!" Prussia chortled and gripped harder, resulting in Denmark almost kicking his head in a spastic movement, laughing loudly. "I'm on the phone, man, cut it out!"

"Don't mind me," the albino said innocently but when he realized that Denmark was literally unable to form coherent sentences, he stopped and let the Dane talk with the Swede.

"Right." Denmark was close to breathless when he was once more free to talk normally. "Yeah, I fell into an ice chasm near some big mountain. Broke my shoulders but otherwise fine."

"Like breaking your shoulders isn't a big deal," Norway grumbled in the background.

"Now now, you would be complaining if I broke my hips, Nor." It couldn't be missed that there was a secret innuendo behind those words.

"Because I would have to do everything for you," the Norwegian hissed back.

Before they could continue their little argument, it sounded like Sweden stood up and walked away from the others, out of a tent or something similar. "Den, serio'sly. Get ba'k in one pi'ce, 'kay? Don' wanna hav' t' get ya body out of a cold grave."

Denmark put up a slightly strained smile though amusement from the tickling still ghosted over his face.

"What's this? You're actually worried about me?" he asked while Prussia gave up entirely on searching for damages. Instead he began to rummage around in the bags again, finding some food and beverage. He knew that Denmark and Sweden's relationship was quite... complex and he really didn't want to get too involved.

"Like hell I am. But 's damn hard t' get ya out of an ice chasm if ya're dead."

"Always so considerate," Denmark sighed. There was a short and slightly awkward pause where neither of the men said anything and Prussia simply prepared the food and put the two beers down on the cold ice. Not for a moment had Prussia considered the possibility of the ice suddenly breaking under them. Neither did he have any idea whether or not they were actually on ice or some kind of steady ground that would just open under them and swallow them completely.

He didn't know where they were. He didn't know how they were supposed to get out from here. He didn't know shit, actually, and it annoyed him to no end. Prussia hated not knowing anything, he hated it when he for some obscure reason was the one needing to be taught something. He had always been the one teaching. His little brother - dear Germany who he loved dearly but would never tell anyone - had been taught and raised by him. Prussia had been the one to teach him what he knew today.

Prussia would not accept being the smaller in this case, he would not tolerate Denmark patronizing him. But the albino also knew that this might very well be necessary. Prussia was never one to climb in the mountains or ski down them again. He had only rarely sat his foot on a steep hill with snow, and in those cases only when it was for the cause of war or because he could see an advantage in it.

And he had most certainly never believed he would fall into an ice chasm because of his stupid ass friend.

Sending a look at the Dane, Prussia realized Denmark was talking seriously. His face had an unfamiliar and grave expression and his eyebrows were knitted together lightly, his mouth only a thin line when he didn't speak. Prussia decided to leave him alone for a bit, signalizing with hand gestures that he would take a look around the nearby surroundings. Denmark simply nodded and continued talking with Sweden in their weird languages.

Armed with a flashlight, a walkie-talkie and a long knife used for skinning animals if he found any, Prussia moved away from his friend, guiding the eerie light around in the cave. There was nothing unusual to be seen. Prussia had no clue what there was supposed to be in a cave like this but he supposed that ice and stalagmite-looking objects were quite common. Or where they more like stalactites? Frankly, the albino had never cared much for learning the different terms for nature's wonders. But as he looked around, the flashlight casting everything around him in a dim but sufficient illumination, he found that maybe he should. It was quite nice, after all.

He found nothing suspicious. No matter how you define suspicious. There were no signs of malicious animals or hungry Yetis, and there were definitely no signs of the ice breaking anytime soon. It looked like it was several metres thick and when Prussia daringly stomped his foot in the ground, the response was nothing more than a dull echo and a sore ankle. The albino met no signs of people or animals who had suffered a horrible fate down here. There were no small skeletons or the insane scribbling of a man having lost his mind after spending too much time in the darkness, solitude and silence of the cave.

Nothing that witnessed of anything suspicious or anything dangerous.

Prussia decided to go back after a good half an hour. It should be plenty of time for Denmark and Sweden to finish their conversation and Prussia was already bored of the cave. He found a rock on the way home and made a big show out of kicking it all the way back to his friend who was chattering heartily with someone on the phone.

"Does that thing still hold power?" Prussia asked in a surprised tone but his true surprise was the fact that Denmark was still talking. Of course not with Sweden anymore. The voice was much happier, lighter and freer. Without a doubt Finland.

"You bet it does," Denmark answered, sounding nearly proud when he looked over at the albino, then longingly at the beer. "Yo, Finny, I think I'll cut it here. Need to watch out for battery and such. Take care, and tell Nor I love him."

Finland passed on the message and the silence nearly echoed in the cave. Prussia waited with a halfway bored, halfway amused feeling in his chest, waiting for Norway's response.

"Get back in one piece and maybe you won't be grounded as hard," he simply answered. Finland chuckled before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Another small silence stretched out between the two as the albino eyed the other. Denmark stared out into the air in front of him, an unusually thoughtful expression plastered on his face. Prussia had a hard time believing it was conscious, especially when he cleared his throat and offered a beer. Denmark almost flinched away, his eyes opening and closing rapidly a few times before he looked up at Prussia. Then he smiled widely, the well-known and mischievous grin back in place where it belonged. Whatever worry that might have been raging in his mind seemed long forgotten already.

"Hell yeah."

* * *

The food wasn't exactly something to write home about. France wouldn't have touched it with a red-hot fire-rake and someone like China would wrinkle his nose at the mere suggestion of such a thing being food. But to Denmark, it was apparently eatable heaven in a can. Personally, Prussia had never found canned food very appealing but when you were hungry and didn't have the luxury of cooking a bunch of sausages along with some mashed potatoes... well, then you had to settle with what you could.

Which, apparently, was cans of beans and small sausages. It seemed, though, that Denmark liked it.

"It's not exactly roast pork," he said with a mouth full of food, "but it tastes good."

"Please," Prussia sighed and rolled his eyes before he stabbed one of the small sausages from his can. "It competes with England's cooking."

"Ah-ah, not quite. England's food either kills you or sends you into a coma."

"Tell me about it." Prussia still hadn't quite forgiven the Briton for that incident. Prussia might have a strong stomach but that was simply not enough to deal with that man's food. "I don't understand how 'Merica survived living with him."

"Hey hey," Denmark said and sent a mildly judging look at the albino, "we have to be fair. His fish and chips are outstanding. We all have dishes others don't like."

"Yeah. You have that... what was it called? The thing in a can?" Denmark waited for further explanations but none came. He raised an eyebrow.

"A thing in a can. Very descriptive."

"It's very popular with your fellow Nordics. Hold on, I bet you have taken some with you!" The albino started searching through the big bags while Denmark just looked at him, wondering and amused as well as curious. What could Prussia possibly be talking about? What did he know of Danish dishes that others didn't like? Danish food was delicious!

"Gil, what are you loo-"

"A-ha! Found it!" the Prussian suddenly exclaimed and pulled out a can, nearly thrusting it into Denmark's face. Denmark pulled away a little, just enough to recognize a can of aluminium in the shape of an egg, the front covered with a sticker of something meat-like on a plate with peas and carrots under the letters 'Jaka'. His eyes lit up instantly.

"Oh, yeah! Jakabov!" he said, looking like a child on Christmas Eve. "It's great! Have you ever tasted it?"

Prussia's expression changed from a grin to a stiff smile to pure disbelief.

"Den, do you remember that time you invited me over for dinner with 'Merica and West?"

"'course I do. We had a blast!" Denmark took the can with a grimace and looked it over carefully, like this was something to savour and to remember. "And I beat you at Mario Kart."

Prussia growled.

"You cheated. And that thing nearly knocked West into the floor! It's a biological weapon!"

"Your brother has no taste. But what else is to be expected from people who eat sauerkraut and drink sauerkraut juice?" The Dane was smirking as he looked at the other and slowly took another small sausage from his can, putting the Jakabov back in the bag. His face was contorted in pain but he tried to not let it be too clear.

"Hey, sauerkraut is very fine!" Prussia instantly said and pointed at Denmark with his plastic fork. "I haven't tasted the juice yet, though."

"Point is," Denmark concluded when he was done chewing, "that Swe and Ice tie first about gross food. It's basically rotten fish in a can versus a headless shark that has been buried in the ground for weeks." Prussia looked entirely wrong in the face, his eyes wide and the corners of his lips pulled downward in disgust.

"I think we'll stop the food talk here. You enjoy what you like, I enjoy what I like, sounds fair?"

"Sure thing."

They didn't touch the subject 'food' again, both having decided they felt no need to explain their friends' weird dishes.

The silence that then followed was long but it wasn't uncomfortable. They ate and drank in peace, occasionally looking at each other to make sure they were still there and weren't suffering from anything. At one point, they began humming a melody they both knew. Denmark started it and Prussia followed after a few seconds, instantly recognizing the tune and the melody.

When the humming died out and the cave was once more silent Prussia looked to the side to find Denmark staring out into the distance, seemingly reliving old memories.

"Den," the albino asked softly and put his can down, instead gripping tighter around the beer bottle, "why are you and Sweden enemies?"

Denmark visibly stiffened, causing his face to contort even more. Then he looked down, lowering his own bottle of golden liquid. He had refused to listen to Prussia about not moving, insisting that he was perfectly fine and that he could still move despite his broken shoulders. It was something that cost a lot of pain but he refused to let it show. Now, though, by the mentioning of Sweden, his eyes got both sad and furious. It was another kind of pain this topic brought upon him.

"He's an ass," came the reply. At first, Prussia thought he wouldn't say anymore but after some moments, the Dane continued. "We've been constantly fighting since after the Kalmar Union. Even during it. He was the one to break it apart. He broke up the unison between us and he wanted Norway with him. Can you believe it? Sweden was desperate to get Norway with him, saying that I was a horrible leader, that he could do so much better without me."

Prussia was silent. He peered down into the green bottle, as if that was talking to him rather than Denmark.

"Norway once told me they had a fight about it, actually. When I was too intoxicated to care, apparently. I would like to have seen it, though. Can you imagine little sweet Norway scold big and freaky Sweden? That must have been hilarious."

The words hung in the air for about a minute before the albino answered.

"But also kind of scary, right? I mean... Norway is normally not one to yell, is he? Seeing him argue with Sweden must have been terrifying."

"Hmm. You may be right in that," Denmark muttered and leaned his head back against the cold wall of the cave. "Then again, any kind of emotion on his face is scary. Kind of like with Swe. But it fits Nor so much better."

A small silence stretched out between them. Prussia continued to stare into the bottle with beer, for once wondering if he should continue asking questions. Normally, he would never think about it, he would just do it. He had always been spontaneous and though it had often caused him troubles, he had also gotten some awesome times and experiences out of it. Like the time he ended up in jail together with some run-away lunatic in some part of Eastern Europe. It had been utterly hilarious but a hell of a hassle to convince his brother to bail him out.

"Besides, Swe promised to help me in the Second War of Schleswig. Promised to send me reinforcements, did he. And he just left me. Doing nothing but watching me suffer from losing so much of my country, he was probably laughing his stupid ass off. He hates me, I hate him. It's mutual so no worries there. He would probably be happy if I died down here," Denmark added with a low mutter and emptied his beer before stuffing the bottle back in the bag. A hard shine was in his eyes. "I don't give a fuck about that idiot. I wish he'd just choke on something."

Prussia kept his silence, gripping the transparent glass tighter. He remembered having beaten the Dane's ass in the late part of 19th century. Not exactly a pretty sight but Prussia had only done what he thought was right. After relatively many years of fighting Denmark he had finally beaten him, leaving him alone and broken on the battlefield. Following his brother home to celebrate the victory.

It had taken a long time for Denmark to be able to look Prussia in the eyes again and even longer to accept him as an acquaintance. Longer yet to declare him a friend. Yet now, they were the best of friends, along with America, and could do just about everything together. They had great times together and several DVDs with homemade movies, idiotic clips of the other nations, documentation and commentary of the meetings, all kind of things. They had recorded two CDs with them covering other artists' songs. The first CD they had recorded while being incredibly drunk and the other while being embarrassingly sober.

Both times Germany had somehow managed tofilm it and Denmark just knew he had sent it to Sweden, probably to use it as blackmail material. Otherwise, Norway would never have commented on Denmark's 'very manly notes' while nearly cracking a smile.

"I sometimes wonder where it all changed," Denmark suddenly sighed and slowly let his fingers intertwine. Prussia looked over at him, finding himself wondering if he should cut off Denmark's line of memories. It was clear already now that it would end in depressing talk and with no positive outcome.

"I mean... we used to be friends. Or something like it, at least. We did stuff together and we had fun together. Norway sometimes joined in. I taught them how to be Vikings and they followed me without question. We had so much of the world. We were feared across the planet and everybody would shake in their boots if they heard of the Vikings coming. Swe and I did well together, there were no serious fights. It was all fun and games if we argued, even if it sometimes escalated a bit."

"Like the time Sweden hit you so hard in the head you were unconscious for a day?"

"All fun and games, that's what I'm saying," Denmark said, snorting ever so lightly in amusement. "Yeah, I guess you could say Swe and I were friends back then. Then, where did it change?"

The Prussian bit his lip, finding an honest answer inappropriate but the best. "You became kind of a douche when the power got to your head," he mumbled and finished his own beer, putting it down beside Denmark's. "You became mean and unreasonable."

Denmark looked highly offended by this, sending the albino an incredulous look. "What?"

Prussia repeated it and Denmark remained silent for a while. Then he snorted again, his expression changing to a bitter one.

"Unreasonable... Yeah, I think Swe called me that, too. Among various other things, of course. None of them pretty."

"Face it, Denny. You deserved it at one point," Prussia muttered. He had stopped wondering if he would sound mean or accusatory. Denmark was his friend and should be able to hear the truth without turning into a whining teenage-girl.

Apparently not.

"Shut it. I don't want to think about it," Denmark suddenly snapped at him and wringed his hands hard. "Are you cold?"

The sudden change of subject confused Prussia for a moment.

"Uh... yeah, my feet are actually freezing pretty badly," he then said, feeling an uncomfortable prickling sensation in his toes.

"How many layers of clothing are you wearing?"

"Enough to keep a snowman warm in Siberia."

"Obviously not."

"Fine." The Prussian rolled his eyes. "Two pairs of wool socks and then these boots." It was a good pair of boots, lined with warm fur and made of thick skin.

"Any snow gotten into them?"

"I don't think so. Doesn't feel like it."

"Hm. Right. What time is it even?"

Once more, the sudden change of subject had Prussia confused for a second before he managed to find his cell phone.

"Well past your bedtime."

It was now Denmark's turn to roll his eyes and he gently kicked Prussia's leg. "Five minutes past ten in the evening." Now the Dane frowned, sending the other a confused look.

"Ten? In the evening? How long have I been gone?"

"You don't even know that? Geez, did you hit your head on the way down or something? Well, anyway, I think we left around five or six. We've been looking for a while, y'know." Denmark nodded slowly, looking thoughtful for just a moment.

"We should maybe try and sleep. Are you not tired at all?" the albino asked. He unconsciously shifted closer to Denmark. It was damn cold down here; he could feel it even through his jacket which was pretty thick and warm. And his feet, especially, were cold. The prickling sensation didn't seem to have thoughts about leaving anytime soon.

Denmark shrugged, then grimaced and hissed lightly. "Not that much. I've been dozing quite a few times. But if you're tired you just sleep. I'll make sure we won't be attacked by big and dangerous Yetis," Denmark promised with a grin. Prussia friendly punched his chest.

"You're an idiot."

"Touché."

For about half an hour, nothing more was said between them before the Prussian's eyes fell shut and his head rolled to the side in a slow motion. Fast asleep, he rested his head both against Denmark's shoulderas well as the wall of the cave behind him. Despite the amount of pain this brought, Denmark remained quiet and just stared out in front of him, leaning his head on top of Prussia's. In his mind, he wondered if the others would really save him. No matter what Prussia said, Denmark knew that the other Nordics did not like him.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, though not letting the warm and deadening sleep get to him. He had made a promise, after all.

* * *

**Okay, so people are still here? Great. If anyone is in doubt, "'Merica" is a nickname my friend taught me for America.  
Translations:  
**_Jævla drittsekk = Fucking asshole/fucking dirtbag_ (Norwegian)

_Faen ta deg = Fuck you! (Literally, 'the Devil take you!') _(Norwegian)

_Rasshøl = Asshole _(Norwegian)  
_  
Ja? = Yes?_ (Norwegian) (works in Danish and Swedish, too)**  
The food thing? Don't ask. I'm a Dane and have never tasted Jakabov, but as far as I've been able to dig out, you either hate it or love it. By the pages and pictures I've seen, I will probably never get close to it. Sweden's "rotten fish in a can" is, of course, surströmming, while I have no idea what the Icelandic dish is called. Bon appetit. Sauerkraut is surprisingly good, actually. Never tasted the juice, though. That's a tad too weird, even for me. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey there, guys! Sorry for updating so late, various things have been happening at both my place and my betareader's. But hep hey, here's another chapter, wuuh!**

**I do not own Hetalia or the characters. This is done entirely for the sake of the fandom and my entertainment (and feels).  
Thanks to my wonderful betareader, 'DancingOnRainbow', for putting up with my shit and mistakes! :D You're the best!**

* * *

Denmark looked around and tried to figure out what had woken him up. There was nothing suspicious and nothing dangerous in sight. Of course, it was dark down here and the darkness could hide possible dangers. The Dane was aware of this and his fingers slowly and clumsily grabbed the flashlight close by, turned it on and let its light illuminate the cave in a dim a yellowish shine. Still nothing alarming caught his attention. Not visibly and not audibly. He couldn't even hear water roll off the stalactites and onto the ground which was a sound that would annoy the living shit out of you if it continued for long.

Just as Denmark was about to deem whatever had woken him up indifferent and unimportant, he shivered. A slightly wild one that shook his body and made his face screw up more than before. He couldn't hold back a moan. God damn it, it was cold. Why did it come so sudden? He was wrapped tightly in his thick jacket, wore two pair of woollen socks, a pair of high boots lined with fur and a pair of gloves, also lined with fur. Even his hair had been tamed so a hat could be forced down over his head.

This time, the shivering got Prussia to groan in annoyance and his lids drew back from his eyes, revealing slightly hazy red. They flickered around the cave, searching for the reason his awesome sleep had been interrupted. Eventually, they reached Denmark and the Prussian sighed deeply before he sat up.

"Dude, what are you doing?" he mumbled with a throaty voice and rubbed his eyes.

"Chills," Denmark answered. His voice was slightly strained because of the pain he tried not to show. It was a long time since he had sworn to himself that he wouldn't let the pain affect him. He had tried way worse and this was nothing in comparison. Everyone could survive broken shoulders, it really was no big deal. But not even Denmark could deny that it hurt. And that a lot.

He kept his eyes at the albino for a bit longer, waiting to see some kind of sign that the man was freezing. It didn't come. There was no shivering and no clattering teeth. No clumsiness when he reached for his cell phone to check the time. This confused the Dane. Prussia should be feeling the cold and more so, complain about it. As far as he knew, Prussia wasn't good at standing cold. He would always grumble about the low temperatures in Denmark whenever he was over for a visit.

"Aren't you freezing at all?" he therefore asked. Prussia shook his head and got up from the ground, dusting off his ass before stretching. The motions were accompanied by a long and deep moan, as if stretching brought him great pleasure. When he was done, the Prussian reached out a hand to Denmark who sent him a telling look. Obviously he couldn't take the hand when both shoulders were in this condition. Prussia bit his lip and got a thoughtful expression on his face.

The Dane rolled his eyes and made signs that he would get up himself. And indeed he did. It looked hilarious but for Denmark, it was a rather painful experience that he begged would never happen again.

"Nope. I guess my body still thinks I'm sleeping," Prussia answered and looked around the cave that was still lit by the flashlight in Denmark's other hand. Observing him for just another moment, Denmark couldn't overlook a small shiver make Prussia move his head.

So much for not freezing at all.

They began eating. As the evening before, nothing big and fancy but enough to keep them with energy to try and find a way out. Finding a cardboard box of cornflakes, Denmark asked if Prussia had a plan or if they would have to rely on his genius mind.

"Don't you worry," the white-haired man answered and poured some milk from a small plastic bottle down in his serving of cornflakes. He swirled the content around for a second before finding a spoon. "It's lighter down that way." The spoon was pointed in the direction in question. "That would normally mean that is closer to the surface, isn't that correct?"

Denmark hummed in agreement as he tipped the cardboard box into his mouth. The flakes were still crisp and crunched when he chewed them. "Awesome," the Prussian said and looked thoughtful, the spoon now lightly tapping his bottom lip. "Maybe if we follow that way we will get even closer… Hey! You've got a compass, right?" he interrupted himself and looked expectantly at the Dane.

"I do," Denmark said and pulled it out of his pocket, trying to suppress the pain. They took a look at it and found that Prussia's decision was the right one; if they went that way, they would go towards North and that wasn't a bad idea.

"Am I awesome or _what_? Either way, we can't just sit around and wait until your weird friends find us."

"As if they could when we're down here and they're up there," Denmark pointed out with the mouth full of food.

"How _did_ you even get here? I don't see a hole in the snow and ice above our heads." This was something that had lingered in Prussia's mind for a while now; he had just forgotten to ask.

"Well," the Dane began and slowly set down the box, instead trying to rummage through his backpack that Prussia had handed him on request. "That's because I didn't fall through here. I slipped on some ice which broke when I fell down on it. It's not too far from here, actually, as I was in quite a lot of pain when I finally got down. It seemed more likely I would be found here than in some narrow passage, so I stayed here."

His rummaging was slow and awkward but he managed to withdraw a large camera.

"And you were unable to reach your walkie-talkie because of your shoulders."

"Correct. I could just hear you yell at me and curse me." It was said with a small smile though he also looked slightly sad. If just he had been smart enough to have the device in his jacket pocket or something… "Honestly, Gil, do you think I would prank you like that?" But before Prussia, who looked nearly shameful for having thought that, could give an answer, Denmark slowly and carefully handed him the camera. And not just any camera.

Out of all the Nordics, or all the other nations he had ever met, for that matter, Denmark was the one who enjoyed taking pictures the most. His passion was the camera and he brought it with him wherever he went. He even had different types. There was one he used for the nature-shots – the one Prussia now studied – and there was one he used for party- and city-shots. The party-camera was a small and pocket-sized one he could bring with him everywhere. The other was big and heavy, not to mention troublesome carrying around. It had its own bag in which Denmark also kept the different lenses, chords, cards and all the other things he had bought through the time.

Denmark finished his meal while Prussia browsed through the pictures he had taken. And he had to admit that they were good. Denmark had left just after the sun had come onto the sky so everything was set in a gorgeous lighting that caught the late morning dew. The sun reflected in small drops on the few flowers he had found and the snow scintillated beautifully. Trees majestically stood watch around a small lake covered with a layer of ice so thin it looked like it would break if you set a finger on it. Prussia tensed when he reached a picture in which a wolf stood atop a small hill, looking directly at the spectator of the picture. It was far away but close enough that you could see the strands in the thick fur that was a pure white. The ears were erect and alert. Prussia moved on to the next picture and nearly yelped when the wolf had gotten much closer. It was so close that you could make out the different shades of orange in the eyes.

Denmark sent him a knowing smirk. Prussia, for some reason, had never been that fond of wolves and always seemed to fear meeting them when he knew they could be nearby. Not that this happened often, of course. When together, Prussia was nearly always at Denmark's place and since there hadn't been wolves there for over two hundred years, there was no reason to fear them.

"You are absolutely insane," the Prussian mumbled and kept going through the pictures. His fingers didn't work as fast as before and they were more insecure when pressing down on the buttons and arrows. There were more animals, some that also he could manage. A moose, some bunnies, a young fox, birds. "I thought you were afraid of animals bigger than a poodle."

"Yeah, people always think that." It was true. Most of his people were terrified by the thought of moose, wolves, bears and other kind of animals that didn't exist at his place. This was well-known across the world and even America had teased him about the incident with the albino moose that a Dane had shot. The man had become _very_ unpopular and Norway had hated Denmark so fiercely he didn't talk to him in a month. This, of course, often happened between the two ex-Vikings but the Norwegian had gone so far as to even refuse answering mails, calls, text messages, letters and any other way Denmark tried to contact him.

Even Iceland, Sweden and Finland had been angry – or at least annoyed - at him.

Needless to say, Denmark had been extremely unhappy.

"But I'm not scared of them. I think they're fascinating. I mean, it's been ages since I've had these animals at my place so it's so exciting to see them, y'know?" he said and got the Prussian to put the camera back in the backpack. The albino shook his head.

"You're still nuts. How did you get so close to it?"

"I kept calm and made sure not to show signs of fear or aggression."

Prussia looked at him with disbelief for a short second before he shook his head once more and found his cell phone. "I'm gonna call the others, okay? They better know we're still alive and functioning and shit like that."

"Sure thing," Denmark answered. He looked over his shoulder when Prussia cursed. He had dropped the phone and when he reached for it again, he seemed slightly confused. Denmark frowned; that was not a good sign. "I bet Norway will love you for letting him know I'm still alive."

"Oh yes, definitely," Prussia snorted and rolled his eyes as he once more stood with the device in his hand and waited for the other Nordics to pick up. He hadn't paid much attention to who he had been calling so he was, admitted, slightly nervous he would end up talking to Sweden.

No one answered, though. The phone didn't even ring. It just gave a high beep before it went completely silent and the screen turned black. Prussia stared at it, disbelief and anger beginning to show in his face.

"Are you fucking kidding me," he snarled and pressed the buttons harder. Nothing happened. He squeezed it tighter and banged it relatively careful against the cold cave wall. And still nothing happened.

There could be no doubt that the cell phone had finally run out of battery.

"Denmark, you try yours."

Denmark did so and with a grimace pulled his phone out of his chest pocket. "It's got no signal."

"Try it anyway."

No matter how many times he tried to make the call, the phone didn't want to cooperate. He tried walking around in the cave, hoping that maybe he would get better signal somewhere else than by the wall. But it was hopeless. In frustration, Prussia grabbed the nearest object – the plastic bottle that still held some milk – and sent it flying through the air. It hit a stalactite and broke off a small piece that followed the plastic to the ground.

"Useless shit," he cursed.

Denmark then reached for the walkie-talkie and tuned it to the channel he knew the other Nordics used. They always had one definite channel they used when one of them for some reason wasn't with the others.

"Hallo," he said into the device while pushing the button to talk. He waited for a second but there was no sign that the others had heard it so he tried again, saying something more and a bit louder. But there was still no reaction. It was troublesome but Denmark didn't worry. That could happen with walkie-talkies, even the newer models. He wouldn't be worried until it happened again sometime later.

"Gil, come on, let's just go," he said, raising his voice to get heard over the albino's frustrated mumbling. Prussia turned his head, sent Denmark a gloomy look but apparently decided it might be the best to follow his friend. He walked back to the bags and helped pack them again. After all, Denmark had some troubles with that.

However, the Dane didn't show signs of pain when the backpack was put upon his shoulders. His jaw tightened a bit and his blue eyes got a hard shine but otherwise he didn't let it show that he carried a lot of weight upon his two broken shoulders. Prussia grabbed his own bag and swung it over his back without any trouble and they began walking.

Marching in the direction Prussia had given earlier, they talked and they laughed. Denmark tried not to notice how Prussia was shivering, even as they walked and let the body work to get warm. Occasionally, he stumbled over his own words, messing them up and confusing two words that had very different meanings and didn't even sound alike. Prussia brushed it aside as nothing important but to Denmark, these were indications that the cold was getting to him.

They hadn't walked for more than fifteen minutes before Denmark asked how he was feeling. He knew very well what kind of answer he would get but he was more interested in _how_ the man would say it.

"I'm perftly fine, Den. Niccce temperat-t-ture, now zat we walk." As Denmark had anticipated, Prussia was speaking with a lisp and stuttering, seemingly without noticing it himself. This worried Denmark. Prussia was obviously freezing but couldn't feel it. That meant there was no way that the stubborn albino would listen to him about getting some more clothes on or making a few exercises to get the blood running faster. Personally, Denmark's body had adjusted to the cold long ago. As a person who often worked in low temperatures with no gloves on, his fingers had learnt the so-called 'hunter's response'. That meant that the capillaries close to the surface of the hands opened periodically to allow surges of warm blood to pass into them and maintain their flexibility.

Besides, his country had always been a cold one, especially during the winters, though it had gotten a bit warmer over the last decades.

Prussia couldn't brag about his ability to withstand cold. He used most of his time by the computer blogging about his uneventful days where he bothered his little brother, Austria, Switzerland or whoever was lucky enough to be mentioned. His room was climate-controlled and the only exercise he got was the walk from the basement to the kitchen to get beer. That was not enough to endure the cold they were now facing, Denmark knew. Far from enough.

And it was beginning to become evident.

They had reached a crossroad. They could go left or right. Trying to figure out which one would be the best, Denmark let the flashlight illuminate the right path, then the left. As one could expect, they seemed pretty similar and a decision wouldn't be easy to make. Denmark, however, knew of a method that might help them find the right way. In his pocket was the compass that, somehow, had survived the fall. Prussia was aware that he had it and the Dane knew that Prussia knew such could be very useful. If his judgement and sense of coordination wasn't affected too much, he would suggest taking a look at it.

"Which way do you think?" he therefore asked the albino, pretending to wonder but actually studying Prussia's reaction and his face when he slowly turned his head. The white hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat and he looked exhausted. It could barely be clearer that Prussia was starting to undergo hypothermia. He was already pale because of his albinism but now, his skin was beginning to turn an eerie, grey tone, and his lips had a vague hint of blue.

"I… zink maybe we ssshad go leffft." His teeth were clattering lightly as he spoke and the lisp was becoming clearer.

"Really? Why not look at the compass to find North?" Denmark asked. Prussia looked confused, as if he didn't understand what Denmark was saying. Then he frowned.

"Do you have a compass?" Denmark nodded.

"We looked at it before we started walking. Can't you remember that?" The Prussian's confusion got more distinct as he looked at Denmark, seemingly trying to figure out if he was played a trick or not. When he couldn't reach a decision, he just shook his head.

"F-f-fine. Take out ze compassss," he muttered and moved closer to Denmark with slow and insecure steps. The Dane did as asked and after giving the needle a few seconds to point towards North, they followed the right path.

Denmark was silently praising the Lord that they weren't caught in deep masses of snow. The nature above them had to be even worse than down here. At least it wasn't windy down here and snowstorms couldn't occur here, either. It was debatable if they could even fall through the ground which was, after all, only ice and hard snow. It sometimes creaked under their feet as they walked and their breath came out as small clouds similar to smoke.

Prussia was becoming worse, Denmark noted with increasing worry and desperation. He tried not to show it, however. Prussia wouldn't believe it, anyway. He probably didn't realize it himself and if he didn't believe something was wrong, then you couldn't convince him of it.

The albino walked slower than before and it seemed nearly impossible for him to put one foot in front of the other repeatedly again and again. His grumbling was turning to sluggish nonsense and his movements were stiff and mechanical. Not to mention that he had troubles remembering.

At one point, Denmark began to rub Prussia's arm, ignoring the pain in his own shoulders. They were also cold but it was far from bad enough for him to be troubled by it. He was used to low temperatures, had often worked under them as well. Although, it was more troublesome when you had broken bones at the same time. He ignored this, though, in favour of trying to rub some warm into Prussia's system. The albino looked extremely confused by this action but didn't hinder it, simply let him do it.

One of the first things Denmark noticed was that Prussia's clothes were wet. Immediately he requested that Prussia took off his clothes. At first, the Prussian laughed, a shaking sound, not believing Denmark to be serious. When seeing the determination in the royal-blue stare, though, Prussia got silent and did as said.

They sat down by a big rock. After a lot of grumbling and curses, Denmark had spread out his own jacket on it so Prussia had something warm to sit on while they worked.

"Holy zzzhit, vy aren't you sveating l-l-like a h-horze," he said the instant his ass connected with the jacket.

"Because my body knows how to keep the warmth to itself. But yeah, I know, I'm hot," Denmark joked and helped Prussia take off his gloves. His joints were so stiff he couldn't do it himself. And when pulling off the gloves Denmark wasn't in doubt for even the slightest bit of a second.

The fingers were blue and the tips swollen, looking like blisters. Moreover, these blister-like bulges had taken a deep blue, boarding to black, colour and even before looking at them, Prussia began to complain that they were itching and hurting at the same time. The hands were covered in yellow and red patches and Prussia didn't seem to notice that Denmark poked them. Looking at his own hands, Prussia's eyes widened and his bottom lip started to quiver lightly.

"What ze fuck?" he whispered and slowly brought the hands closer to his face so he could study them better.

"Frostbite," Denmark answered immediately. He had seen this so many times it had stopped freaking him out. "Occurs when you are exposed to very low temperatures over a longer period of time."

"Buttt I'm not ev'n f-f-freezing!"

"Yes, you are. Your body has become numb, that's why you can't feel it." Prussia didn't have a comeback for that one and he just stared at his hands while Denmark helped him out of his boots. It seemed he had a hard time believing this could be for real, that he could actually freeze without knowing it, and that it could be this bad.

"A vould fel it if A frossse like ziss," he mumbled, voice so slurred and sluggish that Denmark had to use a few seconds to translate the words.

"Not when you freeze so much you grow numb," the Dane answered and carefully took off his socks, finding the feet and toes in the same condition as the hands and fingers. Blue, boarding to black, hard and with blisters. The nails had taken a purple shade. Prussia told he couldn't feel it when Denmark poked his feet, this time harder than he had done to the hands.

The Dane instructed the Prussian to open his backpack. The latter was unable to do so. His fingers fumbled with the flap and buckles for nearly a minute before Denmark did it for him though he was only a little tad better. He found another pair of socks, dry and warm, and handed them to the albino, asking him to put them on. But as before, the albino was completely unable to carry out the simple task.

Just as Denmark had managed to get one warm sock onto the Prussian's foot, the man jumped up and he began clawing at his clothes. He clawed at it so fiercely that there almost was panic in his eyes and his stiff fingers helplessly stumbled against the buttons and zipper of the jacket.

Denmark watched in confusion at his friend, not understanding what was going on. Dumbfounded he kept his eyes at Prussia as the jacket finally came off and Prussia heaved for air as he began working on his overtrousers. Standing on the ground with one bare foot and one clothed, he didn't seem to notice the cold that should surge through him.

"Prussia!" Denmark shouted at him and grabbed him by the elbows, forcing him to stop his actions. "Prussia, stop, what the hell are you doing?"

"So varm," Prussia nearly panted and his eyes widened when they found the royal-blue. His hands flailed wildly through the air, seemingly desperate to get off more clothes.

Denmark was at a loss. This was something he hadn't tried before. He had never been with a person that froze so much they fellinto complete insanity or whatever this was. Neither did he have any idea what could have caused it. Prussia said he was warm – but he was obviously cold. His hands, feet and face were distinct proves of that. His ears were blue and his lips beginning to turn purple, the skin still with that eerie grey tone.

"It's so hot," he continued but couldn't get off more clothes as Denmark still had a firm grip of his arms.

"It's an illusion," Denmark said, improvising. He didn't know what to do or what to say to make Prussia listen but he was sure that the Prussian couldn't possibly be warm. "It's not real, your body is so cold it's changing colour; you can't feel hot!" But it seemed that Prussia was firm in his belief that the heat was overwhelming and that he needed to take off more clothing so as to not die of heat.

It was a long struggle. Surprisingly, as Denmark had thought Prussia too cold and stiff to really fight. But it seemed that the energy was renewed, though Denmark knew better. When you were this cold, you rarely got your energy renewed. It wasn't real, of course it was just something that Prussia was imagining. In the end, Denmark got worked up and he shouted at the Prussian that he most certainly would _die_ of cold if he kept on discarding his clothes like that.

This got the man to still but only after many shouts and many attempts from Denmark's side to knock the other out. Obviously, with two broken shoulders, these attempts were weak and not very strong but apparently strong enough. Finally, Prussia got on some new clothes but only thanks to Denmark; he had lost all ability to use his fingers for anything productive. They had grown too stiff and he couldn't feel them anymore. He said that they weren't even itching.

The shock and the fight haunted them both when they kept walking after the Dane had packed their things once again. A hand rested firmly on Prussia's shoulder, both to keep him up and walking, and to hinder him in repeating the insane action. Prussia was now more or less unable to walk by himself and he didn't talk anymore. Every now and then, there would fall a mumbling curse from his lips but it was so sluggish, slurred and German that Denmark was completely and utterly clueless about what it was supposed to mean. Royal-blue eyes constantly kept on the Prussian to make sure he behaved but by the time they reached a long and rather narrow passage, it was clear that Prussia no longer had the energy to resist or fight.

Or walk, apparently.

Because even if Denmark tried to hold him up, he suddenly just fell. Landing in a bundle of clothes and straps, he didn't even attempt to get up again.

"Prussia, get up," Denmark barked at him, knowing they would have to go on to find a better place to rest. This passage was no good. A passage could easily collapse around you and thereby bury you in snow and ice.

But Prussia didn't get up and he didn't curse at Denmark to let him rest as he usually would have. Actually, he didn't do anything. Denmark barked at him again and still, he didn't get any response. Feeling his heart skip a beat, the Dane bent down, only vaguely feeling cold air bite his face and his neck, to look closer at the albino.

It couldn't possibly be clearer that Prussia had fainted. His lips were now a distinct mix between purple and blue and his skin had a sick, grey colour. The white hairstuck even more to his forehead, damp with sweat. His breathing had become slow and shallow, superficial.

"Prussia!" Denmark stared at his friend in shocked paralysis for no longer than five seconds before realization knocked on the door to his mind with a power that might tip over a buffalo; this was critical. This wasn't just relatively harmless frostbites or light amnesia anymore. Prussia was suffering from severe hypothermia. His eyes were still open but only lazily followed Denmark's movements.

"Prussia, damn it, can you hear me?" he asked loudly and knelt beside the man. Prussia didn't react, simply stared up at him, the red eyes starting to fog over ever so lightly. He blinked once, a slow motion that seemed to take endless physical powers. The lids slid down again but Denmark refused to let him close them for long. Shaking him got no reaction, except for his bones grinding together painfully, and the red stare remained hidden. Another and more powerful shake could as well have been nothing, because Prussia's eyes were still closed. It was only when Denmark pinched the cheek hardly that they opened again. They seemed almost accusing as they rested on the Dane's face.

He was in a stupor. Prussia was stupefied by cold and exhaustion, unable to react toanything but the very base stimuli, including pain. And Denmark didn't know how to handle that. He hadn't tried that ever before. Not on himself, not on someone else. This was entirely new to him.

Therefore, he did the only thing he was sure was right – keep the man awake. Or at least try. For anything in the world, Prussia was not to fall asleep. That could very well be the last drop.

He fumbled with the flashlight he had fastened to his waist, turned it on and directed it towards a place just beside Prussia's face. His worry doubled when Prussia didn't seem to think anything of it, let alone notice it. Once more, Denmark pinched his cheek and this got a slight grimace to go over Prussia's face. Nothing more than the smallest twitch, nearly impossible to see, that tugged at his eyebrows and upper lip. It could have been a shadow moving if one didn't know better.

Denmark was good at being loud. He had been scolded for this several times. But being loud, he realized, was maybe another wayof keeping the man alert and awake. He announced that he would try and reach the other Nordics. It was hard to speak when his heart was beating somewhere too close to his Adam's apple but he managed. Prussia simply blinked.

The Dane got out the phone from his chestpocket and smashed in the number to Sweden. After all these years, he still knew Sweden's number by heart. Almost as good as he knew Norway's. He waited for a breathless second, one more, another second, then another, until he realized that the tone he heard wasn't the one used for ringing. It was the tone that said the line was occupied or that the number was out of reach.

Feverishly, he tried Norway. It gave the same result. Going insane with the panic he felt rising in his chest, he called all of the other Nordics, not for once considering the possibility that maybe it was his phone that didn't work. Not for once did he consider the possibility that his phone had no signal or that his phone had caught some sort of malfunction. It didn't occur to him a single time and in the panic, he had completely forgotten about the walkie-talkie. It was so close to him, fastened in the belt as well so he could reach it without trouble but he didn't have mind for it.

All he could think of in his panicking state was that Prussia was in a stupor, that they were caught somewhere under the snow somewhere in a Norwegian mountain and that his phone was useless.

* * *

**Okay, so maybe not all that Prussia says is clear, so have a translation:**

_I'm perftly fine, Den. Niccce temperat-t-ture, now zat we walk. = I'm perfectly fine, Den. Nice temperature, now that we walk.  
I… zink maybe we ssshad go leffft. = I... think maybe we should go left.  
F-f-fine. Take out ze compasss. = Fine. Take out the compass.  
__Holy zzzhit, vy aren't you sveating l-l-like a h-horze = Holy shit, why aren't you sweating like a horse_  
Vat ze fuck? = What the fuck?  
Buttt I'm not ev'n f-f-freezing! = But I'm not even freezing!  
A vould fel it if A frossse like ziss = I would feel it if I froze like this.  
_So varm = So warm (kinda obvious)_

**What Prussia is doing is called 'paradoxical unclothing' and is a serious condition that has killed many people. Basically, your muscles become exhausted of clamping together like oysters to preserve the bit of warmth they have, and thereby relax to let more blood rush through. This leads to feeling extremely warm and you will begin to tear off your clothes to get rid of some of it. Baaad choice, dude. It will only increase heat loss. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Woop ti doo. New chapter. I apologize beforehand for failing bro-angst in the end. First time writing Germany, and then in this situation. /gross sobbing because of failness**

**Thanks to my wonderful betareader, 'DancingOnRainbow' for reminding me of various things and correcting my failures~**

* * *

Denmark himself had gone into a stupor-like condition. He stared at the phone in his gloved hand, not believing it couldn't work or that they had lost the only way to communicate with the other Nordics. The walkie-talkie still hung in his belt, forgotten in the sudden heap of panic that was Denmark.

He stood completely still, staring down at Prussia whose eyes stared back up at him, slightly hazy. Only one thought went through Denmark's mind at that moment – Prussia could die. Prussia was actually in a state that could kill him if he didn't get medical attention immediately. It took the Dane ten long seconds to remember that they had things in the backpacks that could help injuries. Already fumbling with the bag, it took him another long ten seconds to remember that those things wouldn't help when the condition was this critical. They needed a real hospital, with real medications.

And that was probably hundreds of miles away. They were lost God knows where in the biggest mountain in Norway, Scandinavia and Northern Europe. And with no immediate way to get out of here, gettinghelp appeared to be hopeless. Rescue seemed futile at this point and though Denmark wasn't known for giving up, it was tempting. There was no way they could get out of this dead end.

Denmark got up and slouched against the cold wall of the passage they were caught in. The pain in his shoulders had finally become numb and could no longer annoy him. If it was because the cold was starting to affect him or if he had simply endured it for this long, he didn't care. He just knew that it was gone for now and that was a blessing.

He looked upwards. The ceiling of snow and ice was very light and clear, looked thin. Thin enough for another unfortunate soul to fall right through if they weren't careful. Finding something that he was sure wouldn't break if he couldn't catch it, Denmark threw the object upwards with all his might which, despite the now gone pain, was less than usual. Like hell he was just going to sit around and wait for unconsciousness to grab him, pull him away, lure him into a false sense of security that would take away all his problems, all the hardships he ever had and ever would face. Like hell he would give in to that devilish and devious darkness from which he couldn't find back.

No way you could defeat Denmark that easily.

And no way the ceiling would be affected by the throw of a flashlight.

Denmark cursed and tried again. He managed to hit the exact same spot as the first time but there was no sign that it was working the way he wanted it to. Some snow gently fell, as if to mock him. Had one been able to see his face they would have seen determination, panic and slight fear flash in the royal-blue eyes that normally never wavered. The supercilious and superior shine in them was gone and you wouldn't find the normal glint of mischief, either.

There could be no doubts that Denmark was slowly becoming so full of panic that his body would begin shaking and his mind would go totally bonkers. There was no need for cold to get him to forget things, no need for freezing fingertips to make him unable to grip things firmly. It was all happening right away, in what felt like an instant.

A long while passed by. Denmark had no idea howmuch time passed. Not even just a guess. Ten minutes, half an hour, an hour, two hours, five, it was all the same to him as he slowly slid down the wall. He let the flashlight go over Prussia's face and was only confirmed in his worst thoughts when there was still no reaction from the bright light. He shouted the man's name and only got a slow and lazy blink in return. The red eyes followed his movements, made him feel watched, observed. Like he was some kind of animal or person used for a new medicament. He felt like being watched by a person who would note down all of his small abnormalities, everything he did, showed, said.

It was an uncomfortable feeling and Denmark shivered, though not from cold. He was starting to feel it now, however. Right now, when he sat still and wondered about what to do, he was starting to sense the cold, starting to feel a tiny, tiny bit of what Prussia must have been feeling but being too proud to admit.

He shook Prussia's shoulder but unlike usually, the head didn't roll from side to side. It was kept in the same stiff position.

"Don't go to sleep, Prussia," Denmark begged, trying to keep himself awake as well. It was getting hard. They had been walking for a long time and the fighting on their way hadn't really helped. If he could just rest for a second, just a short minute, then he would be much better, much fresher and he would be able to figure out a plan. He could do it with just five minutes of rest and sleep, he was sure of it.

But a clever voice in the back of his head told him the truth – that it wasn't true. If he fell asleep now, it wouldn't just be for one minute or five. It would be for hours and hours and _if_ he really did wake again, Prussia might have died meanwhile. And if Denmark didn't wake up again… then there would be two dead people down here and a lot of unhappy nations up there.

At least… something inside his head made him want to believe that. Something made him want to believe that what other nations said was true. That the other Nordics actually really didn't hate him, that they actually thought he was at least okay. He wanted to believe in that.

But he couldn't. Not with the things he had been through with both Norway and Sweden. Especially not Sweden. So many wars together. Yes, their relationship had gotten better during the last few decades but it would still take a long time to make them stop sending each other hateful scowls and growls when they were in the same room. This was usually material for a lot of mocking during the World Conferences when both Denmark and Sweden were invited. Occasionally, the others would call for Finland, Norway or Iceland instead of the other two. That way, Denmark and Sweden would still know what the meeting had been about but the other nations wouldn't have to deal with two arch-enemies who couldn't stand the mere sight of one another.

He had said so many things to both of them. Many of them he really did mean but sometimes, when he was really down, he would find that he regretted having said them. He would find himself wondering how everything would have turned out if he hadn't said those exact words or if he had simply kept that opinion to himself.

After all, his opinions were often not that positive in the eyes of others. Denmark didn't really enjoy respect from them. Nordics as well as the rest of Europe. Estonia, however, seemed to have a soft spot for him. And that was mutual. Denmark liked Estonia. He was a nerdy dude who knew literally everything about computers, televisions and whatever piece of technology you put in front of him. And if he didn't know it already, then he would definitely find out in a matter of hours.

It nearly ached in Denmark's heart to know that they couldn't let Estonia be a part of the "Nordic Club". However, he tried to find the positive things in the other Baltics, pointing out that they were cool guys, too, and that Estonia should just be happy to even _be_ in a group. Then he would go on to talk about Switzerland and Liechtenstein who weren't really in any kind of group or club. They were just like… sort of there, though Denmark always made sure to mention them in a respectful tone and to never talk badly about them.

While Denmark had close to no business at all with the two, he sort of admired them. Switzerland because he was able to stand his ground like he did. If you tried to push him around, you became goat-fodder or aim for his rifles. If you tried to make him take side in an argument, he would come with equal amounts of arguments for both sides and then cross his arms over the chest or simply leave. Switzerland wouldn't take none of the other nations' shit. He really couldn't care less.

Unless you touched his sister who Denmark admired for being able to live with a grumpy guy who wouldn't let her see anyone. If you did touch her, you could kiss your sorry life goodbye while staring into the barrel of one of his beloved guns or rifles or whatever he found sufficient to finish you off. Saying this, Denmark would always make sure to mention the time that Prussia had tried to get a date with Liechtenstein. Not because he actually liked her romantically but because he believed she needed some time away from her overprotective and crazy gun-freak of a brother.

Prussia had been sent back to Germany in a box with the size of a shopping trolley for kids.

It was a story that never failed to make Denmark and Finland howl with laughter and Denmark therefore managed to sneak it into the conversation at least once when they were all together. Estonia had heard it quite a few times, too, and though he was more polite and didn't laugh as freely as the other did, he would chuckle and his eyes light up with happiness.

Sweden and Norway, on the otherhand, would glare at him, like they couldn't see the fun in the story at all. Maybe they really couldn't. Denmark didn't know and he didn't care, either. He just knew that at those times, when he felt really sad and had drunk a can of beer too much, he would think of the things he did to Norway and the things he said to Sweden. Things that he knew that Norway didn't like and things that he knew Sweden would beat him for. Wondering why he would always act like the biggest asshole on the planet, Denmark turned miserable and he would call the nations in questions and apologize. Sniveling and sobbing like a child, he would use hours apologizing to them, make them listen to what he had to say, make sure they knew exactly how much he regretted everything he had ever done and said.

He could remember once when Norway had hung up after fifteen minutes of drunken nonsense and Denmark had thought that Norway had now had it with him completely. Thought that now Norway would never have anything to do with him again. He had thought that Norway found him a tad too pathetic. But he had been taken by surprise. Few hours later, when he was halfway through a bottle of cheap but delicious Polish vodka,he heard knocking on the door. He ignored it in the beginning, deeming it an illusion because of the alcohol but when the door was kicked in, he had stood up, ready to fight the intruder. Except for the fact that he could barely see a hand in front of him; he was just that drunk.

But he would always be able to recognize Norway. No matter the state of his mind, no matter how drunk he was, he would always be able to recognize his dear Norway. And there that man stood, looking angry but yet… oddly compassionately. Norway showed emotions he normally refused to admit possessing. That, more than anything, got Denmark to break completely and he fell onto his knees in the middle of the living room, bawling his eyes out while Norway got over, knelt beside him and embraced him for hours. Until Denmark had cried out on Norway's shoulder, the smaller man simply sat there, accepting the way Denmark clung to him and begged him not to leave. He would have nightmares, Denmark always said, nightmares about Norway leaving and following Sweden and Finland. Nightmares that they would go somewhere far away where Denmark could never reach them. Nightmares that Norway would never come back to him.

Whenever it got this far, Norway would take a firm grip of Denmark's face and give him a single kiss. Just one kiss. Soft yet firm. But it was what got Denmark to silence for the night. In that single kiss lay promises and words Norway would never be able to speak. In that single kiss lay actions and emotions that Norway had showed to no one but him. And in that kiss lay the promise that Norway would never leave him.

Not in a thousand years.

Denmark was pulled out of his thoughts and memories by a loud and insisting beeping tone. He looked around, confused and surprised by the sudden sound and it took a few seconds for him to realize that it was the walkie-talkie that created the noise.

He stared at it for close to five seconds, wondering why he hadn't thought of that when the phone had proven useless. Then he grabbed it with fumbling fingers, clumsily pushing the button to let the other person talk.

He couldn't really say that he was surprised to hear Finland's voice. Finland was the one of the Nordics who seemed to like him the best and worry about him the most when he did stupid things. And this walkie-talkie was only set up for the Nordics to use.

"Denmark!" the man said, voice flowing over with relief. "We have tried getting through to you for at least half an hour! Where are you? Any signs of a way out?"

Denmark looked around once more, especially at the ceiling. Half an hour? Had he been thinking for that long?

"We're… somewhere in a narrow passage. The ceiling looks rather thin. I have tried to break it with my flashlight but it didn't work. If someone stepped on it, it would give way, I think."

"A flashlight? Good grief… Any idea about your route?"

Denmark thought for a long moment, then the route suddenly stood very clear in his mind. He told it in detail to Finland, his mind beginning to work with the concept 'hope'. Maybe they would be saved. Maybe Prussia would get help. Maybe they would really get out of here alive. Maybe, just maybe.

He could hear Finland pass on the information to the other Nordics who mumbled in their individual languages, creating an odd mixture of Swedish, Norwegian and Icelandic that they somehow all understood. It was a strange understanding but it didn't seem to matter to them – they were all used to Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, Finnish and Icelandic. However, Finland had a hard time getting through when speaking his native tongue – that was simply too exotic. Only Sweden had bothered trying to learn it. He had nearly broken his tongue when trying to introduce himself in Finnish.

"Yell something very loudly. You're great at being loud and obnoxious, so it shouldn't be too hard for you." Denmark could practically hear how Finland smirked and how not even Norway could hold back the twitches of a smile.

"Thanks a bunch, dickhead!" Denmark yelled. He had been asked to yell and so he did. Loudly. Very loudly. Even Prussia reacted by letting his eyes slide to the side, finding Denmark standing up all of a sudden. Hope was sparked and it showed in his royal-blue eyes.

"Do you need another one?"

"Yes, please." This genuinely surprised the Dane. He had expected a sour shout from Norway but instead, the Finnish voice was suddenly full of awareness. He sounded very wary. Like he was suddenly debating something with himself. "Shout something again, Denmark."

"I'm Denmark, king of Northern Europe, so suck my dick!" he roared, even louder than before.

Then the walkie-talkie grew silent and Denmark didn't hear more ofthe other Nordics. Only after about two minutes did he hear sounds around him again. But it didn't come from the communication device and neither did it come from Prussia. Denmark looked up just in time to be covered with snow. He cursed in a low voice, rubbed the substance away and looked up once more.

Norway, Sweden, Finland and Iceland stared down at him. All of them had relieved expressions on their faces. Even Sweden.

"Absolutely not," Norway commented flatly as Finland disappeared from the hole together with Iceland. "Not even if you were the king of the world."

"Aaw," Denmark said with a fake pout that couldn't hide his immense happiness, "I'm king of your world, aren't I?"

"He's still sarcastic, we can leave him," Norway deadpanned but couldn't keep from rolling his eyes. Finland returned with some thick rope and Iceland carried something that looked like a lifebuoy, just much smaller than the ones you found on boats. The rope was tied tightly around the lifebuoy and then it was lowered down in a way so the person needing rescue could sit in it.

Denmark grabbed Prussia and carefully, yet swiftly, lifted him onto the round object and made sure the man wouldn't fall off. Immediately when the others saw the albino's condition, the other Nordics began hauling him up. It went surprisingly fast and Denmark just managed to hear Norway tell Finland to call for help before they lowered the lifebuoy once more so they could get Denmark up as well.

Only now did Denmark notice the pain in his shoulders again. And this time, it hurt like hellfire. He almost whined by the white-hot flames that seemed to roll through his broken bones when he lifted Prussia's backpack – he had freed the man of it a long time ago – and got onto the red and white object, holding the backpack tightly. As if he would lose Prussia if he dropped the bag. Panic was a state that wouldn't leave him, not even now, as he was sure everything was going to be alright, and that they would be saved.

When Denmark was once more standing on the ground and had stumbled away from the hole to the ice chasm and the underground tunnel that seemed to be there, he stared around at the other Nordics. He didn't know what he expected to see in their faces. Anger? Annoyance? Actual fury, hatred? Disbelief? Relief? Worry?

All of that? More? Less?

But instead of trying to figure out their emotions – only Finland's was possible, anyway, and he was currently yelling into the phone, obviously worried and panicking at the same time – he looked over at Prussia who wasn't too far from him. He rushed to the albino's side.

Prussia had gently been placed on a bed of jackets and blankets the others had brought with them. He was still not shivering, still not responsive and still very much caught in the stupor. Looking at him, Denmark felt it as if a hand was clenching his chest tightly, constricting it, forcing him to breathe in small and not at all sufficient shocks. A slowly pulsating pain appeared just over his right eye and behind his left. He took Prussia's hand that was cold even through the glove.

"Prussia," he whispered, voice thick and hoarse as he stared down at the grey face, red eyes even more hazy than they had been underground. They seemed distant, like the man couldn't focus anymore. "Gil, I'm so sorry, please, don't go, okay?"

Prussia blinked.

"Man, you can't go just yet, not like this," Denmark continued and gripped the hand tighter. He vaguely noticed how the Finnish man had grown silent all of a sudden. If it was because of Denmark talking or moving, or if it was because he had finally ended the call, Denmark had no idea. He just knew that he was now watched by all of them. All pairs of Nordic eyes were resting upon him. He felt as if they were judging him. But they would be in their good right to do so. What Denmark had exposed Prussia to was… it was horrible. And horrible wasn't even the word.

"Denmark," Iceland suddenly said though without getting the Dane's attention, "the helicopter is on its way but it can't get here. Too many trees. We have to move."

The royal-blue eyes belonging to the happiest and most carefree of the men were still only taking in Prussia's appearance. In the sudden daylight, the skin looked even worse and a scratch over his left cheek could be spotted. The blood had frozen after rolling only two centimeters, making it glisten bizarrely in the warm sun.

The carefree personality seemed to have left. There were no traces of happiness, either, as Denmark watched the red eyes close in a slow blink. Panic rose in his chest when the eyes kept hidden behind heavy lids. A cry of fear escaped his throat when not even pain could bring the albino to look at him again.

* * *

Denmark paced back and forth in the hospital's waiting room. He walked in circles and he walked diagonally. He followed the pattern on the floor as well as he walked in a straight line before the other Nordics who were all seated and pursued him with their eyes.

Doctors passed by them and sent them slightly frightened looks. Sweden's face that could as well have been made of stone didn't show a single thing near emotions and seemed inhumanely empty. Norway's expression was one of dull boredom but his eyes had a slightly worried shine while Iceland's face seemed like a mix of Sweden's and Norway's. Finland, on the other hand, was at least half as worried as Denmark. He wriggled around in his chair and often stood from it to look at the door leading out of the room, hoping to get a glimpse of a doctor that would tell them about Prussia's condition. Finland also fidgeted with his hands. That is, until Sweden took them in his own and made the Finn shriek in fear.

Denmark didn't register this. He didn't register when Norway told him to sit down and that he should try and calm down. There was no reaction when Sweden exclaimed his name. Not even the ball of paper that Iceland threw at him got Denmark to look up and at them. His hands were tightly locked with each other behind his back and he was mumbling to himself, eyes wide open and full of consternation and angst.

He was at a loss. What had he done? What should he do? What would Prussia think of him when he woke up after a successful surgery? How should he react towards Prussia from now on? What should he tell Germany? Spain and France, too? Not to mention Austria and Hungary, though they seemed to not like him. But maybe that was only a mask?

What should he do?

Instead of trying to find answers to these questions and thereby burden himself with more uneasiness he could only get rid of when Prussia was okay again, he continued wandering aimlessly around the room. Luckily, there were no other patients in here. It would have been a frightening sight for them to see a fully grown man in such a state, distress radiating so clearly from him. Frightening to see a man refuse proper care that the doctors had tried to make him undergo. He had shouted at them, raising his voice in fear and frustration hidden by anger, told them to just take care of his friend. His own damages were not even worth speaking of, he had tried way worse.

And, contrary to the majority of other hospitals in the Northern Europe, this hospital, with all its doctors and nurses and secretaries and cleaning personnel and whoever worked here, knew who and what they were.

The people working here knew that Matthias, Lukas, Emil, Tino and Berwald were in fact incarnations of Denmark, Norway, Iceland, Finland and Sweden respectively. They knew that there existed incarnations of every country in the world. And unlike many others, these people believed it. They didn't need to be told twice, nor did they feel the need to talk with the countries' bosses. They looked surprised, some even shocked, yes, and many of them had laughed lightly in anxious insecurity, but they never questioned this information.

And after having taken care of Denmark and Sweden's injuries when they had been fighting, the doctors had no reason to be in doubt. No ordinary human would survive what Denmark and Sweden did to each other.

So all in all, two doctors at this hospital had only pressured Denmark for a few more minutes before they left to join their colleagues to take care of Prussia. They also knew that Prussia was an ex-nation, the former so majestic and proud Kingdom of Prussia. This, they had a harder time believing, because how could a nation or a kingdom die without the incarnation disappearing?

They stayed the entire night. And the morning. Denmark was the only one who didn't sleep. The others had been offered an empty room for the night and they had agreed, though Norway had sent the Dane a quizzical look, leaving as the last. Denmark simply shook his head, not for a moment stopping his seemingly never-ending walking. The other nations left him, each of them saying good night in their own language but none of them had the honour of Denmark paying them any attention. He could hear doctors whisper about him just before the door closed. He could hear his Nordic kin talk softly, also about him, just before the soft click of the door closing sounded and he was left alone with his uneasiness, his thoughts, his fiercely beating heart and his worry that soon turned into definite fear.

Until the door was suddenly slammed open again. It was done with such a power that Denmark knew it couldn't possibly be a doctor or a nurse or another person who worked at this place. It could only be one other person when Prussia was not… not really able to walk and Sweden had gone to sleep.

"I demand that you give me a full explanation right now, Matthias Køhler, incarnation of the Kingdom of Denmark," Germany nearly shouted, every feature in his pale face lined with insane rage. "Warum _zum ficken Teufel_ ist mein Bruder im Krankenhaus?"

The German had been called as soon as they knew where Prussia would be transferred to but it was a long trip from Germany to Norway, especially when they were so far up in the country, hence why he only showed up now.

Denmark hadn't expected anything less than this. In fact, he had expected Germany to smash his head against a wall and shout at him until he had gone deaf and unconscious. But the German was surprisingly composed and calm, though there was a slight shaking in his loud voice. Denmark, however, couldn't help but cower away a bit. He might be brave and he might not be exactly scared of the man but when Germany shouted in his native tongue, he would easily come off as frightening.

The German was given an explanation as requested. It took a long time and many pauses but he got it. As more and more of the night passed and the moon settled on the sky, starting its long and slow journey across the black carpet above them, the thoughts and words grew darker and Denmark's fear got mixed with a feeling of anger, of regret. Gone was the pain in his head, and gone was the thought of his shoulders being broken. He hardly even felt them anymore. Germany stared at him from the other end of the room the entire night, not letting himself doze off to sleep a single time.

Left in Denmark's head was only one rail of thoughts – this was his fault. He was at fault for Prussia being in such a state, a state that was potentially lethal.

"Potentially?" he mumbled to himself and spared himself half a second to stare at the moon that seemed to brush the top of the trees outside. "Potentially? He could have been dead. Anyone else would have been dead. But he's a former kingdom, he can't die like a pathetic human being." He dared not look at the German to see his reaction to these words.

He started walking again, unknowing of the things happening outside. The doctors who whispered about him, whispered about an albino with frostbite, in a stupor and with little to no chance of survival. Cleaning personnel who were told not to enter this very room. Secretaries that exchanged information about him and his reputation over cup after cup of steaming hot coffee.

Other nations who kept guard at the door.

He was unaware of the troll that constantly kept an eye on him. A troll that would pass on information to its 'owner'. Unaware that he was being watched by the others. The possibility hadn't even occurred to him.

The arms on his wristwatch had just deemed the clock 08:23 when the door was opened. Denmark had stopped his pacing back and forth just an hour earlier, his body seemingly out of energy. But by the sound of the door being opened, adrenaline instantly surged through his veins and he snapped his head to the side, looking at the doctor, his heart picking up an unhealthy pace.

Germany shot up from his chair the instant he heard the door swing on its hinges.

Stainless, white lab coat, with matching gloves and a mask that had been pulled down from her mouth. She stood still, seemingly taking in the men's appearances before she talked.

Her voice was kind and gentle, soft, perhaps too soft for a woman looking like forty years old but it was the words that Denmark really noticed. Her face was but a mere blur of colours and features any human could have. He took no notice of her eye colour or her hair colour, no notice of the shape of her face, if she had a hawk nose, a pig's snout or whatever. She could as well have had none and he would probably not have noticed.

"Mister Køhler and mister Beilschmidt," she began, "we have done what we can for Gilbert right now. His situation is very critical and though it is possible for him to continue living, I have to inform you-"

"Do it," Denmark instantly interrupted, only vaguely noticing the voices and the presence of the other Nordics. "Keep him alive, I can't let him die."

She looked over at the German. His face was unreadable. All sorts of thoughts could go through his brilliant mind without either of them having the smallest chance to guess correctly.

"Continue explaining," he commanded of her with a hard voice and she looked back at Denmark, clearing her throat.

"I understand that you say that, mister Køhler, but I have to inform you of the complications connected with letting Gilbert live."

Complications? Denmark swallowed heavily, feeling his heart thump harder against his rib cage. He didn't notice how Norway was pulled back, hindered in entering the room. Germany was silent. He knew this wouldn't be complication-free. How could it possibly be?

Complications? Denmark stared at the woman. Dark circles underlined his tired eyes but they were suddenly wary and aware. Germany wondered how bad these complications would be.

What complications? It seemed like an eternity before the doctor continued but the clock on the wall stated it only took five seconds.

"His brain has undergone severe damage because of the cold. Both of the cerebral hemispheres have been attacked so violently that Gilbert most likely won't walk or talk again if he's kept alive. The thinking progress would slow drastically and because of particularly grave damage to the cerebral cortex in the right cerebral hemisphere, it is very possible that he will be petrified in the left side of his body."

Denmark blinked once. Then again, and many other times before he finally seemed to understand what she was saying. But…

"What?"

The doctor didn't seem surprised by this. It was probably very normal that relatives to patients didn't understand the 'language' the doctors used. However, she wasn't the one to explain it. "The left side of the brain controls the right side of the body, and vice versa. Hence, if Ost has been damaged in the right part of the brain, it will show in the left side of his body," Germany said and this time, Denmark really did understand. The doctor nodded but looked worried. The blond was acting far too calm, he should be shivering and shaking.

But Germany knew about damages, he knew what those things did to you. He had been – and to some degree still was – a soldier in the highest rank and his medical knowledge was incredibly big. He had healed and treated many soldiers on the field, obviously he would have to have some form of idea about what which things did to you.

It was just that he had a bit more than 'some form of idea'. However, if you looked deeply into his eyes, you would see something unsettling. In his eyes, in those icy blue and hard spheres, you could see the vaguest hint of fear. Actual fear. Germany showed emotions and out of the entire spectrum, he showed fear.

He knew what this meant.

And the words gave even deeper meaning, made even more sense to the Dane. It scared him. That meant that he would never get Prussia back as the bragging, partying and surprisingly well-writing man he had been before. Denmark swallowed heavily again.

"Chances are that the part of the brain that takes care of memory, emotion and the like, the temporal lobe in both hemispheres, will have been so impaired that he won't recognize anyone. Not even his best friend," she added with a sad expression when she could see Denmark was about to interrupt again.

Denmark closed his mouth and looked over at Germany, gaze quickly falling to the floor. Germany's jaws tightened.

"It would be the same about his family. The chances that he would actually identify someone, even though he has been living with them his entire life, are less than fifteen percent. Chances of remembering their names are five to six point eight percent."

Germany's lips pressed together to a thin, thin line and his hands curled into fists he hid in his pockets.

It took a moment for Denmark to comprehend this, to really understand it. Then he started trembling. First his legs which forced him to sit down in the nearest chair and stare at the doctor. Seconds later, his arms followed suit and he firmly grabbed his knees to try and stop it. But it was useless. Soon, his entire body trembled with devastating grief and the throbbing pain behind his eyes returned. The doctor sat down next to him, saying more complicated stuff about the parietal lobe and its ability to comprise somatosensory cortex and the dorsal stream of the visual system. She said something about another lobe called the occipital lobe which had something to do with the visual processing or something. The frontal lobe wasn't much better; his attention span and decision-making skills, among other things, would decrease drastically.

Denmark didn't really listen. He stared at the floor, his mind completely numb. If he felt anything, if those frontal – or was it temporal? - lobes did something to make him feel something, then they were failing dramatically. He couldn't feel any emotion whatsoever. Or maybe it was that he was really feeling too many? So many feelings and emotions that he couldn't keep track of them and it therefore felt like he was empty, numb, cold, feeling nothing? That would make sense, wouldn't it?

Yes. It would.

The doctor stopped talking when Denmark let go of his knees and instead let the hands find his hair that hung around his head. Few groups of strands here and there still defied gravity by standing directly into the air. Other strands had tangled themselves together and yet others made weak attempts of following the first mentioned group.

Prussia wouldn't be able to recognize him. Or Germany. Oh God, he wouldn't be able to recognize his brother. His own _brother_, who he had taken in when the German was nothing but a baby. The thought was horrendous.

The Dane dared to turn his head to the side, finding Germany's eyes. They were hard and cold as ice, yet burned with the intensity of a thousand flames. Of course he knew this as well. Germany also knew that his own brother would not ever recognize him again. His face was nearly transparent.

And if Prussia really should be able to remember them, if they were so lucky that he would recognize their faces, it would be close to impossible for him to recall their names. Prussia would be petrified in the left side of his body. Prussia was left-handed. He would be unable to write, to draw, to properly hold anything. He would need help for the smallest things until he had learned to control the right hand. And Prussia was not famous for his patience.

With all this information swirling around in his head and with the thoughts already there, Denmark felt a harsh and violent headache approach. He knew what the right choice would be. Prussia wouldn't be worthy of such a life. An awesome person such as he deserved a better life, better circumstances. He deserved better than that.

But while the decision was easy to make, the hope was hard to let go of. The hope, the fierce belief that Prussia would be lucky, that Prussia would be awesome enough to recognize them, to remember their names and to talk and walk nearly normally – it was still there. It roared at Denmark just as loudly as the facts one could not deny. Even though Prussia had been a nation, he no longer had the ability to regenerate like they did. Denmark had once taken a severe blow to the head that had him hospitalized for close to a week but he had been up and partying three days later without feeling anything about it.

This was different. Prussia couldn't do that anymore. Though he still aged like a nation and his organs had the same ability to keep up with his many, many years, they were now as fragile and weak as those of a human.

Prussia had the memories and skills of a nation, but the body of a human.

Hoping for survival, hoping for a successful and rich life for the Prussian would be childish.

Denmark had always been childish.

Now it was time to grow up.

Now it was time to realize how tough the world could be. For nations as well as ex-nations.

He felt a hand stroke over his shoulders. Familiar fingers carefully brushed over the broken bones, finding his neck. He didn't need to turn his head to know who those gentle touches belonged to. Sweden had touched him like that, believe it or not, and so had Finland and Iceland and Norway. But only Norway could make the skin erupt in goose bumps. Only Norway could make a warmth spread in the innermost chamber of Denmark's heart, even now.

Norway leaned closer before he slid down before the Dane and gently took his face between his own hands. It was with mild force that he got Denmark to look at him. The royal-blue eyes were filled with tears, the dark circles seeming to cast long shadows over the cheeks. It had been a long time since Norway had seen that stare. The stare that witnessed of pain and sorrow so deep no person should ever feel it. That degree of pain was something no one should ever be as unlucky to face.

Accompanying that hurt was hopelessness. As evident as the black dog playing around in the purest and whitest snow it presented itself, flickering in the beautiful eyes that had only known happiness and relatively little hardship. Eyes created to radiate hope and vigour now glistened with the opposite – despair and enervation.

Denmark didn't really see Norway's eyes. Both because of the tears blurring his vision and because of the energy it took to keep just somewhat track of his thoughts. He didn't register that the doctor exited or that the other Nordics entered.

He only registered the hands on his face and two thoughts.

One was that he should let go of Prussia.

The other was that it was his fault.

"I know you know the right choice," Norway whispered to him. It was rare to witness Norway talk to Denmark in that soft and caring way. Even rarer was it to see him comfort the man. But nothing could top the rarity of seeing Norway show genuine emotions towards that very same man.

Yet he did that now. The tone in his voice was full of very real compassion and sadness. His eyes shone, actually showed life. They scintillated with the same emotions his voice gave sound.

"I know you know what would be the best decision." It was spoken in a hushed murmur, his thumbs brushing over Denmark's wet and pale cheeks.

He felt another hand on his other shoulder. It quickly moved, however, to rest on his back. This was more careful, as if shy to make contact with him. Finland, without a doubt. He was always so timid around other people, even if he quickly opened up to them and became comfortable with them. As long as that person wasn't Sweden.

Finland didn't say anything. He just sat there, with a hand on Denmark's back.

Sweden stood close by. Too close by considering his relationship, which was one of deep hatred, with the Dane he actually felt some sort of compassion for. Iceland sat in the chair Norway had formerly occupied. He seemed very alert.

Germany still stood in the other end of the room but when he spoke, his voice was so clear and loud that he could as well have been standing right next to the Dane. The trembling was very pronounced, however.

"You have had a good time together. We should let him go while you can both still be proud of having lived."

"He's your brother… how can you say such a-?"

"That's exactly why, idiotische Dummkopf!" the German suddenly shouted and stepped forward, staring at Denmark. Sweden stepped to the side, almost protectively, and a warning expression washed over his face. Germany's eyes were moist and shining with a dangerous gleam. "He's my _brother_! Do you think I would let him live a life like that? Impaired and clueless about his own past and about you and his other friends? _About me?_" His voice rose to a nearly shrill tone, one hand slamming against his own chest repeatedly.

Denmark flinched and looked up at the German past Sweden's arm.

"How would _you_ feel about it?" the other continued. "We will never get him back. Not _him_. It would be a _replica_ of him, not the _real him_. Seeing him live every day would be a painful reminder for what you have done and what you will forever miss," his hand clenched the front of his shirt tightly, "and it would not be _fair_. Imagine the looks he will get. From Austria and Hungary, not to mention France and Spain. Stop being so verdammte selfish. If _you_ won't let him leave this place with dignity, then _I_ will."

* * *

Prussia's eyes were closed. His skin had gotten the normal white colour and his lips weren't blue anymore. His fingers and hands were wrapped in some sort of special bandage that should have a soothing and healing effect on the blisters and the damage that had been done to the tissue.

Denmark wondered what it could all be of use. Prussia wouldn't wake to see whether his hands were still frostbitten or not. He wouldn't wake to see the place he was taken to. He wasn't connected to any machines. No bags with special and vital liquid hung from metal stands. No machine kept watch over his heartbeat.

The other Nordics stood outside the room. Denmark didn't want them here. This was too personal. He knew he would show emotions he would be ashamed of. Crying. What bullshit was that even? A man as strong as he shouldn't cry. He was too proud for that. He should show more self-control, more self-discipline than to let the emotions take over like that.

Only Germany was in here with him. He had refused to let Denmark be alone with Prussia, for reasons he denied to tell.

"Hey, pal," he whispered and tried to not get his hopes up. Prussia would not respond. He should stop hoping. It was childish and Denmark needed to be anything but childish right now. He had to be a grownup.

"Listen, I know you… can't really hear me or anything but… I just want you to know that… that I'm sorry. You can't possibly know how sad I am. How sorry I am. The time is," he checked his watch, then looked back at the albino who seemed so peaceful, "half past twelve in the noon. The others say I should get something to eat. Heh. How ridiculous. How can I think of food when… when…"

Here his voice broke and the first signs of crying started to appear. The tightening of his throat, the suddenly familiar pressure behind his eyes, the way they stung and how his chest seemed to constrict, as if trying to hinder the action. It was useless, however.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, voice thick and shaking, and he gripped the Prussian's hand tighter. It was no longer cold as ice but had a comfortable, normal temperature. "I never meant for this to happen. I didn't… I didn't think it could go that wrong. It was just… I was… Because of my selfishness, I lost my best, most awesome friend. I'm sorry, Gil. I'm sorry that I made you look for me, even without asking. I'm sorry you felt you had to save me."

He leaned his head against the chill metal of the bed, sighing and breathing deeply as sobs slowly overtook his body and made him lose control.

The room was eerie silent except for his voice. Not even Germany's breathing could be heard.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you more than I did. I'm sorry I was so useless when you needed me the most. Sorry for making you trust me, trust that I could heal any damage and that I wouldn't let you fall into some serious condition."

The tears finally fell. More water had leaked this day than he could remember having allowed for the last century. Sliding over his cheeks, the drops followed the trail already formed, only making the red lines even clearer and more distinct. No one would be in doubt that he had cried today. How embarrassing.

"I hope you know that… that I will miss you. A lot. More than anything I have ever loved and then lost. You were like my other half, you completed me in some way. I could be me around you, Gil. I hope you know that. Even now, I hope that you won't hate me, though I deserve nothing less."

And with a last squeeze of the hand and a careful, very soft kiss to Prussia's forehead, the last visit had ended. The last breath was drawn from Prussia's lips and his lungs had made the last expansion and last contraction.

Germany sat on the other side of the bed. His eyes were red and puffy and despite several attempts, Denmark's offers of a talk or just an apology had been rejected. After having sent the Dane the deadliest, coldest look to ever be sent – even Sweden would have a hard time competing – Germany had looked back down at his brother. His hands were folded in his lap, folded so tight the knuckles were white.

Just as Denmark turned his back to his friend, still with water running from his eyes, something almost miraculous happened. It was nothing that could have sent signals of him being alive or getting a decent life, the doctors told him afterwards when they had checked Prussia to make sure he really was dead.

But when Denmark had no longer been looking at Prussia and only Germany was with him, a single tear had escaped Prussia's right, closed eye. Only one small droplet of water.

"It is very possibly the last thing he ever did," a doctor softly told Denmark when she exited the room.

Norway consoled Denmark on the way back to his home.

Germany stayed at Prussia's side for another day.

* * *

**Translation time! I apologize for possible fail German.**

Warum _zum ficken Teufel_ ist mein Bruder im Krankenhaus? = Why the _fucking hell_ is my brother at the hospital?

Ost = East

Idiotische Dummkopf = idiotic fool

Verdammte = damned


	5. Chapter 5

**Aah, so here is the final chapter. I hope you guys/gals have been enjoying this story. :) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or the characters. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. Neither do I make any money of this, it's only done for the sake of the fandom and my own entertainment and to practice my writing.  
Once again, thanks to my wonderful beta-reader, 'DancingOnRainbow', for having read and corrected this! :D**

* * *

The situation in the country Denmark became bad.

The economy took a hard blow and began spiraling down. Ministers tried their best to fix the situation. They came with suggestions and new reforms. They came up with complicated plans that would change the welfare system as they knew it. But while the reforms were carried out and they helped for a year or two, they always backfired in the end. There was always something the ministers hadn't thought of, or something that turned out way worse than first anticipated. Statistics became unreliable and one couldn't put their trust in the financial ministers anymore.

The crime rate exploded. The tendency to steal grew and it didn't take more than eight years before half the population had tried to steal. They were desperate, they said. With the economy halting like this, people became desperate and insecure. Their future prospects started to look less attractive, less hopeful. More and more people saw stealing as _the_ way to get things they couldn't afford.  
Of course, not only theft underwent an alarming increase. Crimes involving violence – gun fights, gang warfare, fights at bars and discotheques – happened more and more often. In just five years, fifty three percent of the young Danes carried either a gun or a knife when they wandered the bigger cities at night. They were afraid, they said.

The production and export decreased. The manpower wasn't as strong, efficient or competitive as it had been. The firms imported more than they exported, shaking up the balance in a way that would sooner or later lead to liquidation. Several tests were set to work to find out the environment at different kinds of companies, shopping malls, hobby shops, gas stations and so on. These tests should measure the quality of the work as well as the health and mood of the workers. After eleven years, the tests showed that more than thirty five percent of the workers at the big companies had depressions and workers at the shopping malls had bigger tendencies to steal. Unemployment boomed.

Kindergartens, schools and other institutions for kids and teenagers began reporting about an increasing amount of students suffering from school fatigue. The Danish students got lower grades than any other Nordic country's students and more and more of them developed mental illnesses. More and more students dropped out of school and became homeless. The schools no more took their classes for excursions because they couldn't control the students. Neither could they afford it. Schools in the smaller cities closed, boding the end of one city after another. If a city didn't have a school, it had only feeble chance of survival.

Ministers, experts, professors, teachers, chairmen of trade unions, chairmen of unemployment benefit offices, leaders and presidents in Denmark were at a loss. They didn't know how to stop what was going on. They had never heard of Denmark being in a situation as critical as this, let alone experienced it. To the rest of the world, Denmark had always seemed a country that had control of things and knew what to do in crises. Now the country seemed to be falling apart between their hands.

Other countries were reluctant to help. They didn't know what could be done. They could send money, but how long would they last? Prices went up, taxes soared and the country was soon in a state of inflation. Not nearly as bad as it had been in Germany in the 1920's but enough to make the population anxious. The money would soon be gone. Some of the European countries, including Spain, France and Poland, offered to form an alliance in which they hoped to get Denmark back on top again.

But Denmark knocked everything back, determined he could get better without anyone's help.

The incarnation of the country sat in his room and looked over a new bill that would ensure that criminals would be unable to enter the labour market. Arguments for and against were overwhelming and in the dim light from his cheap lamp from the nearest IKEA, Denmark barely knew right from wrong. He knew that criminals shouldn't be cut off from the labour market completely but really – they should be punished for committing crime. So far, nothing had worked. People would still steal with arms and legs, they still didn't hold back from shooting or stabbing someone they got into a fight with.

He turned a page and saw more text. Another page, followed by even more letters and numbers, things that told him what he already knew – he had to do something. His country was crumbling and it was his fault. He couldn't keep this up much longer. If he didn't do something soon, he would end in the same state as Greece and that was one degree he had sworn never to let himself sink to.

But he was so frustrated. So angry, so desperate, so bitter.

Doleful.

Memories haunted him day and night.

His conscience wouldn't let him in peace for even an hour.

He would sit up to late in the night, thinking. Reminiscing. It was all he did these days. Along with his country's slowly falling state he thought a lot about Prussia. The thoughts would wander in every single direction – wild parties, calm nights, nice conversations over a bottle of beer, long nights in which they shared intimacy at a so personal level close to none had ever gotten to know it. Denmark had never told anyone about what he really did the times he spent several days at Germany's place. Only one. To the other Nordics, he had some important papers to look over in the company of the German. To Germany, Austria and Hungary, he had something important to discuss with the Prussian.

But in reality, they exchanged 'valuable information on how to stimulate your partner even though he or she might not be willing in the beginning'. However, they always made sure to not make it sound like actual rape. Both of them had more accusations for rape than good was. Denmark, because everyone thought he forced Norway to be in a relationship with him. And Prussia, because everyone thought he didn't care about anyone else's pleasure but his own.

None of it was true. Denmark knew that Norway stayed with him on his own accord. Denmark didn't force him. True, he might be a whining three year old without Norway but he knew that Norway wouldn't give a shit about that. If Norway didn't like him, then Norway wouldn't stay. It was as simple as that. Others didn't realize this because they didn't know Norway, didn't know how his mind worked. Not that Denmark would imagine himself to know every single thing about Norway. There were plenty of things that didn't add up to him. But he figured that this was what made the man so alluring, so interesting.

As for Prussia, he did care a lot about his partner. It wasn't only about his own pleasure, his own excitement when he made love with someone. Quite the contrary, maybe. He cared more about his date and that he or she had a pleasurable experience. If his date didn't enjoy it, then he couldn't, either. It was as simple as that. Prussia had never had a fixed or permanent partner – he wasn't the type to get deeply involved with another person. He didn't have the personality or nerves for that. Nor would he ever show the emotions needed to keep a boy- or girlfriend. Prussia wasn't good at dealing with emotions. Prussia was best single and everybody knew that. He also always made sure to tell this to the person he brought with him to bed so the expectations of a long-term relationship couldn't even be shaped before they got broken again.

Denmark was the closest Prussia ever got to a permanent partner. Yet, they only shared nights of extreme intimacy a few times a year. After all, Denmark was far, far more devoted to Norway and would _never_ leave him for anyone else. No matter how sour and frustrating Norway could be, Denmark couldn't see himself with someone else. It was simply impossible.

And so, Denmark hadn't been able to keep these nights with Prussia secret fromhim for long. Yes, he had been scolded, yes, he had been beaten, but Denmark knew he deserved it so he let the Norwegian have his way with him without a trouble.

In the end, Denmark had been granted permission to continue these late-night activities with Prussia as long as he promised – on Scout's honour, even – that it wouldn't develop into something more. As long as Denmark didn't develop feelings for Prussia, then it was tolerable. But after this scolding, beating and the hereinafter conversation, Denmark had seen the shortest, vaguest glimpse of apprehension in the Norwegian's otherwise dull eyes. It lasted for close to a second before it disappeared once more but it hadn't passed by the Dane. He had noticed it, registered it and while his shocked mind tried to process it, Norway had made ready to leave. However, Denmark had hindered this with great efficiency. A hug from behind and a soft kiss to Norway's neck was all it had taken. That night, it was only Norway who felt the Dane's passionate touches.

Denmark flung the papers down from his desk. Pencils, clips, ballpoint pens, mugs with dried up coffee and old pieces of trash followed suit and rolled onto the floor. One of the mugs shattered and covered the black carpet in white porcelain.

Both elbows were planted on the desk and his hands moved to grip his hair tightly. Frustrated and disheartened he drew a deep and shaking sigh , fingers running over his scalp as he bowed his head, eyes closing. Everything was trouble. There wasn't a single thing he could do that was easy. He wanted… he just wanted to get something done, something that could be done quickly, swiftly, without a lot of trouble that would discourage him even more. Everything he had done so far had been a failure. The reforms, the plans, the suggestions, everything. Nothing had worked, and he was clueless about what would.

What could he do by now? After all these failures, these disappointments, what could save him and save his country, his people, his nature, his culture?

"Definitely not continuing to think about it day after day," he said harshly to himself as he pulled himself up from the chair. When standing on both feet, he instantly felt dizzy and the world spun before his eyes. Gotten up too quickly. That was something he was far too used to by now. He spent most of the time by his desk, buried in work and papers, practically living off of nothing but coffee so black it would keep Finland awake and bouncy for three days straight. He barely ate but quenched hunger he no longer felt with the caffeine-rich substance.

When his office once more stood still and he could make out the different paintings and drawings on the walls, he began moving. He passed by the drawings Sealand had made especially for him in an attempt to cheer him up. One of them was one of all of the Nordics celebrating some kind of festival. Christmas or New Year's Eve or something like that. They were poorly drawn but it was easy to see who was who. Finland and Sweden sat next to each other, both with a yellow band around the ring finger, and Sealand was seated beside Denmark who had Norway on his other side. Iceland was placed between Finland and Sealand and even he looked like he was having fun. A white ball of fluff – Hanatamago - was busy wrestling with some gift-wrapping paper.

Denmark stopped to stare at the drawing. They all wore happy and wide smiles, even Sweden. With a heavy heart, Denmark let his exhausted eyes rest on each of the Nordics for a moment, studied them, their odd features Sealand had managed to bring out despite his lack of artistic skills. They looked… so natural, so happy. They were smiling, laughing, eating without complaints. They didn't seem to be straining themselves; they were genuinely feeling comfortable in each other's company.

Denmark wondered if that drawing could ever become reality. If there would ever come a time where they would sit together by the same table, joking and eating freely, without thinking of their dark, shared past, without country-wise thoughts in their minds. Without having to worry about their bosses to call them for an emergency meeting.

Could that ever be possible? Could he and Sweden bury the hatchet for an entire day in each other's company? Could Denmark avoid getting so senselessly drunk that he would scream obscenities and curses into the other's faces or begin crying? Could he keep from advancing on Norway? Could he ever even just be _suitable_ for a day with the other Nordics?

The drawing brought him equal happiness and suffering. He wanted it to be real – but he didn't believe it would ever happen. He didn't believe in himself, nor did he believe in Sweden. He felt wicked for thinking like that but he just couldn't hinder it.

It was but a dream.

Denmark slammed the door to his office shut and slowly lumbered down the hallway to his living room from where he would enter his bedroom. He needed sleep. He wouldn't achieve something amazing and miraculous that could solve this labyrinth he felt trapped in.

He had to get some sleep, even if it would once more be full of bad dreams and nightmares.

Entering the living room, Denmark frowned. The lights in here were lit and he knew he had turned them off when he had left for his office. Hadn't he? He was pretty sure he had. For whatever reason he had forgotten but he was pretty damn sure he had turned them off. Scanning the room, he found nothing but empty bags of chips and empty cans and bottles of beer and empty mugs of coffee. He couldn't see anyone who shouldn't be there. Nothing seemed wrong.

Maybe he just really had left the lights on.

After a long moment he decided his memory was just playing him a trick and he shrugged before turning off the lights and trod into the bedroom.

His shoulders had healed correctly. The bones were put back together when he arrived at the University Hospital of Copenhagen. It had been a quick and relatively painless affair. There was no pain at all in them anymore. After all, it had been many decades since the incident at Galdhø Peak.

He should be fine by now. The memories should have stopped haunting him a long time ago. But they hadn't, for some reason. They always lingered at his consciousness, ready to attack at any given moment when he had lowered his guards.

Why did they? Why were they still there?

Denmark cursed them as he aimed for the bathroom to brush his teeth. Finland had more or less forced him to remember it, giving him grim examples of how gross your teeth would look if you didn't brush them frequently, especially when drinking coffee by the gallon. Uninterested, Denmark had glanced shortly at the pictures, only partly watched the videos and only read every other page of the reports Finland had given him as proof of the devastating effect coffee had on the teeth.

He bared them in an empty snarl and studied them in the mirror. They were still pearly white and faintly glistening. No harm done yet, it seemed. Denmark drew a sigh and forced himself to move out of the bathroom and not just sleep in the bathtub. After all, Norway would scold him tomorrow if he found Denmark sleeping there.

Norway was coming over tomorrow.

For once, it didn't fill Denmark with happiness. Was he excited about it? No. Was he looking forward to it? Not really. Did he want company? Not truly. Yet, that drawing seemed to be burnt into his retina. He couldn't get it out of his mind even when he tried.

Fully dressed in a loose T-shirt and jeans, Denmark slid under the covers of his king size bed and closed his eyes. But as expected, he couldn't sleep. It wasn't because of the coffee, though the caffeine was still running around in his system and made his brain work in overgear. Just not thinking about things that could help solve the situation he was caught in. Only thinking about how it was his fault.

His fault that Prussia had been worried about him.

His fault that Prussia had gone out to look for him along with the other Nordics.

His fault that Prussia had died.

It was all because of him. If he had never gone out alone, then he would probably be partying with Prussia right now. If it wasn't because of his incredible selfishness, then he would look forward to Norway coming over tomorrow. If it wasn't because he had wanted to get away from Sweden, then he would still know what happiness was.

Right now it seemed so impossible. Happiness. What was that even? He could remember having been carefree, laughing freely while ruffling Norway's hair or drinking with Finland. He could remember partying wildly with Prussia in a small bar in the outskirts of München. He couldn't remember the following morning, except for a skull-crushing hangover that had him bedridden for two days. But he had felt great in the moment, at the bar. Chatting with two local girls. It had been a good night. A fun night. One worth remembering, he believed.

But the feeling of happiness. That light sensation in your heart, cheerfulness in your mind, the laughter that seemed unable to stop, a smile that reached from ear to ear and lit your eyes with a beautiful shine. He couldn't recall that. It was as if forgotten, hauled out and away from his archive of feelings.

His archive of feelings. Heh. That was dusty. Dusty, with only few drawers in which actual emotions lay hidden. There was regret, sadness and then the biggest drawer of them all, labeled with 'numbness'. A lot of the time, he wandered around, not knowing what he was feeling. If he was even feeling anything. That thought filled him the entire day.

What if he had lost the ability to feel happiness? What if he could now only ever feel sadness and regret? Would he live the rest of his life far down in a black tunnel, feeling like looking up, seeing the way out, reaching out for it, fingers almost touching… but to no avail?

Denmark turned around in his bed and stared at the small clockradio that silently announced 01:14. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes anew. It was no use. He had done this for so many decades by now.

He should be used to it.

But he never got used to lulling himself to sleep with sinister thoughts and dark memories.

Denmark never got used to the nightmares and the lack of emotions that haunted him even there. He couldn't be rid of it. All he wanted was one good night's rest. Just to sleep tightly, to have one night without vivid nightmares that would cause him to sit straight up, as if pulled by a wire, screaming out in an empty room. That was all he wanted. A quiet night where he could sleep well.

Was that really too much to ask for?

It apparently was.

Denmark finally fell asleep when the numbers 03:35 flashed with green on the display of the clockradio. Even before he really closed his eyes, he could see Prussia lying silent and unconscious before his feet. Not dead, just unconscious. Though that was of course bad enough. Prussia didn't react to his words and didn't react when he was poked in the side with a boot, either.

The scene changed just as blood started seeping out Prussia's mouth and nose, trickling down over the greyish skin and colouring it an eerie tone of dark brown.

Denmark tossed aroundin hisbed, clutching the pillow.

They were in a church. Of course not just any church but the one where Prussia would be buried. He lay there, in that mahogany coffin with the lid open so guests could come and say a last goodbye.

Denmark felt sick. He remembered this so clearly, standing by the coffin and feeling everyone's eyes on him. Germany's hard and piercing stare that could set a stick aflame was directed at his neck as he stood there, head bowed in polite silence. He watched the so familiar face, looked all the features over, wanting to remember them for eternity. The only unfamiliar thing about this scenery was that Prussia looked peaceful. Denmark couldn't recall having seen him relaxed or peaceful a lot. It looked odd on his face. But it sort of suited him.

Another unusual thing was loud sobs and sniveling from some of the rows of benches in the front. Hungary sat there, along with Germany and Austria. Switzerland was seated a bit away from the others, holding Liechtenstein's hand tightly. His stare was as hard as always. But Hungary was crying. And she didn't try to hide it. She was holding a handkerchief to her lips to muffle the worst noise but otherwise there was no sign she was trying to camouflage her sorrow.

Austria's face could as well have been a mask of cold porcelain. No emotions played in the beautiful face or the violet eyes. His hand was connected with Hungary's, a thumb occasionally brushing over the back of her hand but that was about the only movement he made during the entire ceremony.

The other nations crying were Spain and France who held each other tightly and sobbed against each other's shoulder. Strangely enough, they were able to keep it at a relatively quiet volume, unlike Hungary.

Nobody wanted to get too close to Germany, except for Austria and Hungary. He was paler and more silent than usually, his gaze about three times as hard as when he scolded Italy and his hands were clenched into fists so tightly that the knuckles were white. His jaw was set tightly and gave his face a square shape. His eyes nearly burned. Icy blue had never been that similar to Hellfire.

Denmark dared to walk over to him after the coffin had been carefully placed in the deep grave and the German earth had been poured over it. He remembered the silence; it had been ear-splitting. His own heartbeat echoed in his ear as he stood before the German, a few centimeters taller but muscularly smaller. And the way Germany stared at him only made him feel even smaller.

Everything about his attitude told that he blamed Denmark. But the words he spoke told the exact opposite. That it wasn't his fault. That Prussia had always been spontaneous, that Prussia would have done it anyway. Denmark shouldn't feel bad about it.

But when he looked around he was met with accusatory looks. Spain and France, in the middle of their tears and their grieving, had anger sprouting in their eyes. They blamed him, Denmark knew that. But when he went to them to apologize, they tried to brush it off. They said that he shouldn't ponder it too much. Prussia was impulsive, he did things out of the blue.

They didn't understand. They didn't catch on. They didn't really, truly get what this wasall about. This was not about Prussia going out to look for him, it wasn't about Prussia's spontaneous actions. It was about the fact that Denmark hadn't been able to help him. By not being properly prepared, he had gotten his best friend killed.

He had been so sure he had control of everything, even as he landed on the cold ground after having fallen through ice and snow.

They said he wasn't at fault.

He knew they were lying.

The scene changed again and now he was at the hospital. He didn't know where, exactly, because everything was darkness. A small light could be seen in the distance but Denmark couldn't move. He was scared. He couldn't see what he would step on, if there was a hole in the floor, if he would fall down once more.

He couldn't see anything.

Paralyzed, he stood completely still and just looked at the light so far away. It was small, not bigger than a thumbnail. And as he stared it seemed to only move further away. Slowly, ever so slowly, it moved backwards, away from him and it became even smaller.

Denmark tried to yell something, tried to yell at the light to stop moving. But he had barely opened his mouth before he felt like he was being choked. Air was taken from him – or was it the darkness that was forced down his throat? – and he gagged, trying to produce a sound but to no avail. Not a sound passed his lips and the light kept moving away, slowly, mockingly.

Like it was making fun of him.

He finally moved a foot. Nothing happened. He didn't fall, didn't slip, didn't die. He was okay, still lived. He took a deep breath, this time able to do so without feeling like he was being choked. Another step. The light stopped moving and he could feel his heart skip a beat. Clumsily, he found his feet and began walking. Nothing close to safely or elegantly but he was walking.

But he hadn't taken more than ten or twelve steps before he felt exhausted. His breathing turned heavy and deep and he had troubles lifting the foot, putting it in front of the other and to repeat the action so many times seemed useless and impossible. The light was still so far away. It hadn't grown bigger. But it was closer. Yet it seemed impossible to reach it. Denmark tried to lift his arm but his energy was already reaching an end.

He fought the exhaustion, fought it for another ten steps before his knees buckled and he collapsed on the floor. It creaked and bent a bit under his weight. Immediately Denmark tried to get up, fear finding its way to his chest, clutching it like a hand about to strangle him.

"Won't happen," he whispered to himself, in the dream as well as in the real world, "I won't-"

But then the floor creaked again and in his panic, Denmark put his foot too hard onto it. It cracked beneath him and he fell through, falling, falling, falling through empty darkness and cold. He could hear screaming, shouts from voices he believed to recognize and he tried to answer them but the pressure on his chest was too strong, he would surely die, he wouldn't have air for much longer, this would be the end of him-

His body hit the ground with a dull sound and Denmark jerked, then sat up straight, eyes wide open but unseeing and his mouth open in a silent scream.

Denmark breathed quickly, too quickly, and it was only superficial, not near enough oxygen made it to his lungs and he began feeling dizzy already before he was really awake. His skin was covered in a thin layer of cold sweat.

A voice got him to flinch away and he almost rolled off his bed.

"It's just me." The voice was hard, yet softer than usually and a hand was stretched out towards him, offering him comfort he only rarely got to know from that man.

Denmark stared at him in fear, clutching the duvet to his chest when he found out how to use his hands again when the paralysiswas gone.

He had forgotten Norway would come over today. He forgot everything recently. He could barely remember what day of the week it was and he couldn't remember how you cooked food. Checking mail was something he was reminded to do by text messages from the other Nordics.

They were patient with him. Not once had they yelled at him since the accident and they made sure to thread with care around him. But this annoyed him, though also brought him a weird sensation of delight. He didn't want to be treated differently just because he was a little down in the dumps. If they kept on treating him like a ticking bomb that could explode whenever, then things would never change.

Yet, he was sure there was a reason they treated him like that. They were clever, no matter what anyone said, and if they thought it the best to be a little wary and careful around him then that was probably the best. For all parts.

He was just in so much doubt. He knew he was in some deep shit with the condition of his country, yes, but it could be worse. Much worse, even. He was doing fine, given the circumstances. This he told them whenever they were over and they never answered directly. They kept saying smart and clever things that sounded so professional that Denmark felt like he was visiting a psychologist or something. And that was uncomfortable.

And he was always tired. No matter the amount of coffee he drank he was always tired. But he couldn't sleep. He was exhausted and sleepy all the time but when he finally got to bed to sink into darkness he would lie awake for hours, all desire to sleep completely gone. There he would lie, for hours and hours, just staring and thinking and staring and crying and staring until finally, life had mercy on him and let him fall asleep.

"Den, it's okay. It's just me and I'm here," Norway said again, softly, and spread his fingers a bit, begging Denmark to take his hand. The Dane debated this for a couple of seconds before he slowly, hesitantly reached out to grab it, as if he was scared. He wasn't completely awake yet, the nightmare still had a firm hold of him.

It never really let him go.

* * *

But as more time passed by, as decades ate up years and turned to a century, Denmark changed. He had found a solution to his economic problems along with the other Nordics. One day, they had all gotten over to his place to talk with him but for the first few hours, it had been completely impossible. Denmark was lost in a haze of alcohol and it was only with force that they got him to let go of the bottle with vodka.

After that, Norway made Denmark take a bath and take a walk with Finland around the house. In that time, Sweden, Norway and Iceland had cleaned up the worst parts of the house. Empty bags of chips were thrown in one trash bag along with a box of half eaten pizza. In another trash bag went the cans and bottles that were spread around the house.

When Finland returned with a partly sober Denmark, the house looked almost as good as new. Sweden had even managed to give the living room a quick round with a broom.

And then they had talked. For hours and hours on end, they had talked seriously with Denmark. They had told him the exact extent of the situation, just how much trouble he was in. While Denmark had had some sort of idea about how bad it was he hadn't expected _that_.

Without noticing, he was in such complications that not even Greece surpassed him.

This shocked Denmark to the core.

The others continued to explain the status and they gave him bundle after bundle of paper, plans and suggestions they had made. They told Denmark that if he was ready to truly help himself get better and if he was truly ready to fight it, then they were in this together. It pained them to see him being this miserable.

He looked around at their faces. They looked deadly serious. Even little Finland.

Denmark swallowed heavily. Together… were they really willing to help him? After what he had done and said?

For a few minutes he stared down at the papers they had given him. There hadn't been time from when he had them in his hands till the other Nordics began talking and explaining. How was he supposed to make the choice now, when he barely knew their plan?

His hands shook as he sat with the white pieces of paper, turning them swiftly, looking over the overall content. It looked promising. But he would be utterly unable to do it himself. And he felt weak for admitting that. Admitting that there finally was something he couldn't do alone, something he needed help with. He hated that, it was weakness and he refused to be weak. He refused to be dependent on someone else.

But now it seemed thathe had no other choice. There was no immediate hope in his voice when he shakily mumbled "I… I appreciate your help."

His eyes lit up with shock yet also the smallest bit of calm when he felt a big and strong hand touch him. Denmark looked up and found Sweden standing by his side, one of his gloved hands resting on Denmark's shoulder while something close to a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Then a hand grabbed his and in confusion, Denmark looked in that direction, finding Norway looking at him with shining eyes. They were full of relief and optimism. Then Iceland followed suit by awkwardly patting his knee but also he looked at least just a little relieved. And then there was Finland who outright laughed and flung himself at Denmark to embrace him.

Denmark was completely dumbfounded and stared at them in turns. Then he felt his lips twitch and long forgotten bubbles seemed to rise in his chest. But they weren't from the alcohol.

This was like a dream.

But unlike the drawing, it was a dream coming true.

* * *

**Wuuh, happy ending (somewhat)! Once more, thank you for following, reading and reviewing! :)**


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